By Sue Austin
Since the retreat at Omega last October, I see that I have not been peaceful. It is as though I have not wanted to surrender to all this whiteness. I fought it coming, but it comes anyway, and not gently. Even the wind blows white. I know that with winter comes bear spirit, hibernation—days up here alone with my thoughts, chores, reading, and the struggle to face myself in writing. When I left the veterans’ retreat,
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By Sue Austin
Since the retreat at Omega last October, I see that I have not been peaceful. It is as though I have not wanted to surrender to all this whiteness. I fought it coming, but it comes anyway, and not gently. Even the wind blows white. I know that with winter comes bear spirit, hibernation—days up here alone with my thoughts, chores, reading, and the struggle to face myself in writing. When I left the veterans' retreat, an experience bathed in so much color and heart, it was hard for me to settle down.
I've given myself Mondays as a Day of Mindfulness. Today I see the snow has laid a soft blanket that coats the roof and settles into the leaky gaps at the foundation, all to help make the cabin warmer. I stand nearly eye to eye with the white ermine tunneling in and out, happy to have this soft blanket to play in. So I begin to be like the ermine. I wear this whiteness like a coat and head out soon for some skiing meditation.
Sue Austin lives in Tetonia, Idaho.
