turkey tracks in new snow.
Single file, a gentle curve from wood through field, all twenty something, dark bodies stepping into feather deep whiteness. They keep wings pulled inward, seemingly forgotten their ability to rise above the ground and sit amongst high branches. white pine.
Skis through snow- sticky, wet, still clinging to bare limbs and green needles. Sound over surface, a light swish melts into surroundings-gone are the crunch and cracking, of low temperatures and cold winds. interupted stillness.
My breath flows easier in the moist air, the cold no longer catches in the back of my throat, short and shallow, being replaced by deep and flowing...scent of water droplets. salty mudflats. weathered leaves.
Movement. Slipping in and out of frozen. The steady rhythm of the tide-winter's breath beneath the ice, is joined by the dripping of icicles, awakening of springs and streams, sap running in the maples, and the sun stretching higher each day as shadows begin to shorten.
I too am waking up after weeks within. Nourished by cold and quiet...a sinking inward that now brings expansion outward. Sitting with others in meditation, reminded silence is not the same as stillness, knowing it is stillness that creates clarity. We need these times of pause, of quiet reflection, of slowing down to ready ourselves to move again, to take flight, to plant seeds, to continue on the cycle...whether it be a seasonal pause or a breath between activities...allowing stillness brings new directions...
In this time of transition, where are you noticing movement, within and without? What's melting away? What's being created from your depths?