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By closing my eyes, however briefly, and resting my thoughts on the core of my perception, I can gain some of the peace that meditation brings me. I have come to think of it as prayer, although I ask for nothing, and speak to no one within it. It is a profoundly non-verbal experience, a sharp breath of pure being amid a forest of words. It is an
... See moreHalloween is no longer a time for remembrance, but it still reveals our need to enter liminal spaces: those moments when we're standing on the breach of fear and delight, and those times when we wish that the veil between the living and the dead would lift for a while. But most of all, it hints at the winter to come, opening the door to the dark
... See moreLife has been busy, and in the general rush of things, these vital fragments of identity have been squeezed out. I have missed them, but in a shrugging kind of way. What can you do when you're already doing everything?
The problem with 'everything' is that it ends up looking an awful lot like nothing: just one long haze of frantic activity, with all
... See moreI don't mind staying in at all. I realise that, for plenty of people, it feels like a brutal restriction of their freedom, but it suits me down to the ground.
Winter is a quiet house in lamplight, stepping into the garden to see bright stars on a clear night, the roar of the wood-burning stove, and the accompanying smell of charred wood. It is
... See moreI had no idea how much these quiet pleasures had retreated from my life while I was rushing around, and now I'm inviting them back in: still, rhythmic work with the hands, the kind of light concentration that allows you to dream, and the sense of a kindness done in the process. I make gingerbread men with Bert and find myself taking excessive care
... See moreAs we so often find in ancient folklore, the Cailleach offers us a cyclical metaphor for life, one in which the energies of spring can arrive again and again, nurtured by the deep retreat of winter. We are no longer accustomed to thinking in this way. We are instead in the habit of imagining our lives to be linear; a long march from birth to death
... See moreI have used up all my energy just to see this, and it's worth it. But how could I ever justify that to the outside world? How could I ever admit that I chose the muffled roar of starlings over the noisy demands of the workplace?
Wintering, Katherine May, p. 36
All this time is an unfathomable luxury, and I'm struck by the uncomfortable feeling that I'm enjoying it a little too much. Perhaps there is nothing wrong with me at all; perhaps this is all a fantasy that I've concocted in my desperation to leave. I'm only serving my notice period, so perhaps I just don't care anymore. I know that I would
... See moreSome people thrive on a little sleep deprivation, but I do not. I now know that I can achieve far more after nine hours than I can in the spare time afforded by a short night. Sleeping is my sanity, my luxury, my addiction. …
And winter sleeps are the best. I like my duvet thick and my bedroom cold, so that I have a chill to snuggle against. Unlike
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