January & February can be low months. The fun, energy of Christmas gone. The dark days turning but not so you’d notice. Cold and more often than not damp that seeps into your bones. Money all spent. Hoking in the back of the freezer and larder for dinners. Slowly slowing down, and then bottoming into a slump.
My mind too wants to slow down. It aches for rest, instead, I feed the need to keep driving it. I can let my body rest in this season, but my mind I keep on whirring, but the cogs are creaking from the dark and cold too it seems. Slow down, slow down, please slow down they plead. In my haste, I’m losing the details that embroider my life. I see the fabric and folds but miss the delicate stitches and beads. When I slow it’s as if another layer to my life appears. I see the golden band of light that stretches between the land and low lying grey clouds. I hear the little birds chattering and fighting over the nuts in my back garden. I notice the softness in my son’s eyes almost hidden by his fringe. A whiff of aftershave from India that transports me back to our sacred place. There are hidden layers to my favourite songs – its as if the producers have added another track or 2 to the arrangement when I wasn’t looking. Thread and beading of life that I miss more days than see in the hollow of the year. In the hollow of winter’s past I’ve driven myself on through it, powered up, or I’ve crashed and numbed it with sugar and Netflix.
In the hollow of this year, there are treasures to be seen, touched and tasted. Slowing down does not equal dumbing or numbing. Slowing down is an invitation to experience the layers of life we miss in the rush.
Michelle Scott 