Can you feel it?
That gentle shifting in the winds; that subtle strand of warmth hidden within the bitter cold.
The air tastes differently, caresses our throat and lungs with new whispers.
The light has changed. It reflects from our eyes in facets awakening from winter’s deep hold.
We are awakening from winter’s deep hold.
In the northern hemisphere the snow still surrounds us.
Days may pass without it falling anew, the golden shafts of sunlight glittering across the surfaces.
But its presence is always at our peripheral, quietly hovering on the borders of our awareness, leaving us to anticipate its next fall.
But amidst that awareness, there is something else now, there, along the horizon.
Something lighter than the Winter, than the promise of more snow.
The Spring is coming.
Just a little longer.
The awakenings around me are subtle in my home, but outside, where my trees stand tall, the world is softly coming alive.
The birds have begun to sing again; I hear them outside the glass of the windows.
I heard a dove just yesterday.
The squirrels greet each other after their long time of quiet, and the tracks of the rabbits have reappeared, tracing patterns across the snow.
Just a little longer.
Shaking off the dust of sleep and quiet, stretching our fingers towards the sun, a salutation of welcome return.
The time for new beginnings is coming, for new work, new dreams, and new vibrance to move toward.
But for now, just now, it is a time for shedding.
It’s time to shed the dust, and the sleep, and the quiet.
Softly.
Gently.
It’s time to shed what has grown stagnant, to make space, sacred space, for what will grow anew.
Releasing with love.
Revisiting memories.
Tracing our fingertips along moments we could never revisit, but contented ourselves with reimagining.
Realising it’s time to say goodbye.
Releasing with love.
Feeling lighter.
Softer.
Gentler.
Letting go.
Some things we held onto with love, ready to pass on to their next home.
Some things we held onto with fear, attaching a part of ourselves to them, as though their existence validated our worth in some way. Fed truth to our story somehow.
Some things we held onto without realising we had, hiding them away in boxes and bags, tucking them into corners and shadows, unaware of the strings and the ties and the chains that they guarded, locked into our energy, into our being, leaving us wondering why we can’t move on, why we can’t forget, never seeing the hold they still had on us.
Letting it all go.
Releasing with love.
Love yourself enough to say goodbye.
To lose what needs to be lost.
To shed that which has run its course.
Life is cycles.
Some cycles end.
There is no obligation to anything that doesn’t draw magick from your heart.
From your very being.
If it doesn’t light you up, let it go.
If it doesn’t serve the life you desire, let it go.
If it has taught you all it can, and it’s now time for you both to move on, let it go.
All that you release creates space.
Sacred space.
Space to hold all that is meant for this next chapter.
When we let go, we allow the space needed for what awaits us.
It cannot come to us if we don’t make room.
And we make room by letting go.
Releasing.
Setting free.
Setting ourselves free.
I freed myself of so many ties to my past this month.
I let go of things I didn’t know I still had, that tied me to people and places I never desire to know again.
Secret, hidden chains, holding me back, weighing me down.
I shed them like ice that breaks into a free fall to meet the ocean.
I let go of things that tugged my heart strings.
Little porcelain faces, framed in lace that was once as pure as I must have been.
Painted metal that spoke of moments imagined but never experienced.
Coloured sands that once touched a creative child’s hands.
It was time.
Those heartstrings tied in gentle bows, I released, one by one, softly tugging until their hold released.
Until they slipped free.
And I reminded myself to breathe.
Lighter.
Softer.
Gentler.
Love yourself enough to let go.
Let go with love.
Standing at the window’s glass, sipping hot green tea, with oat milk and a little local maple syrup; just a dash of cinnamon.
For warmth.
For love.
I listen for the birds, who are quiet today.
I watch for the rabbits, who are hiding today.
A loving kitty weaving through my legs, making soft sounds to tell me she’s there.
To remind me she cares.
I look to the sky, trace my gaze along that hidden horizon.
Breathing.
Being.
Ready.
Just a little longer.
Keep a sharp eye.
