January 10, 2018February 8, 2018 by Lily

Clove of Seasons

Though I am still on Christmas Break, the holiday lights are already down. I’m onto my third cup of coffee, and my fourth day sans makeup or bra. It’s that time of year when all the merriment so many of us look forward to gives way to a much-needed quietude, if only for a couple of months. I sit in the protective womb of my apartment, the thermostat set to subtropic levels, and yet all I need to do is look outside my window and the temperature makes itself visible by the scene’s clues, like the clouds of steam coming to a rolling boil over the tops of the other high-rises.

But there is a sort of clove of seasons within me, and probably within many. The holiday yearning to bake and bake and eat and eat and eat more is still alive and well, but the desire to turn over the proverbial leaf now waxes enthusiastic. You see, somewhere during the holiday season, when we give, and we celebrate our loved ones; when we eat, drink, and are merry, there is often excess and even darkness that gets muddled in with all the good. When all is said and done, there is a weight on us, certainly physical, but often emotional weight as well, and we are all too eager to leave it behind in the past, along with the old year.

What I find ironic, is that the holiday season is intended to be centered around finding and celebrating the light within (ourselves and others), when it so scarce in our environment. This is a custom that can be traced all the way back to the Pagan era. It is no secret, however, that the holiday season has evolved to become a time of stress, overextension, overindulgence, and family tension. Even those who look forward to the holidays all the way back to the dead of summer heave a huge sigh of relief when it has finally come to its end.

But now, for a brief moment, we’re all blanketed in the calm. The perpetually animated streets are suddenly empty, their usual occupants tucked away in the warmth of their cozy apartments and condominiums. This calm brings with it an introspective moment in time, a time in which I’ve been guilty of buying into “new year, new me” mantras. Except that there is really nothing to be guilty of, nothing to buy into. Our society can be a jaded one, and so I find sometimes that when I ask the guests at a holiday party what their New Year’s resolutions are, they scoff at the question, laugh it off, or a answer it in the form of a joke — as if none of us is above improvement, or in need of a fresh start. Perhaps this more cynical face of society began to emerge alongside a once-meaningful season now perverted by the talons of mass retailers and the like.

Nevertheless, I personally think it is beautiful that each year we get a bit of a “clean slate,” or another chance — maybe a chance to set a new intention or some practice at an old one. Having said that, I’ve never been one for winter. Physically it can be very hard on my body; I suspect harder on mine than on others, since I know so many people revel in this season! But I’ve lived here my entire life even though I have wished to move somewhere with a more favorable climate. Until that happens though, I have learned to embrace the unique qualities of this season and its unforgiving climate over the years. I welcome the early nightfall even though it casts darkness on my otherwise warm and welcome one-bedroom. I remain in a state of Hygge, as my windows provide me a protective barrier from the harsh and bitter reality of the outdoors. These are the same windows, which less than an hour ago, were seeping the most brilliant light into my closed eyes as I sat in meditation, enveloping me in a warmth that could carry me through a lifetime’s worth of winter nights. Now I could tell you much more about that experience, but if you’ll excuse me, I’m being beckoned by the sound of the Keurig, and although I vowed to begin a New Year’s diet, an unwritten invitation from the leftover holiday chocolate on the kitchen counter. Cheers to a wonderful new year.