Winter’s Guidance for the Grieving Heart

Dear One,

I empathize with your loss. I re-live loss each year as cold winds blow in to shorten and darken my days. For eons I have known desolation at the demise of my flowers, vegetables, fruits and leaves. No matter how many years a cold wind has chilled my heart, it still causes an overwhelming void when my animals, fish and insects go into hibernation. At these times, I consider the big picture, realizing the balance I need to endure. I have learned that when my heart is cold, it is good to flood it with happy memories. Spending time with children and listening to songs of the birds warm my heart.

When darkness surrounds me, I sit where I can see the rising stars to lighten the heaviness of the night. Sometimes, I get caught in a deep, dark hole, perseverating about all I have lost. I yearn for the leaves on my trees, the strong rays of sun, for ripening fruit and watching my children soak in my best offerings. When darkness engulfs me I try to lighten things up, not forgetting the unseen. So much happens in the dark, important things, evolutionary things. Do not disregard the germination taking place in the darkest places.

It’s easy to get bored when I am dismal, depression can certainly settle in when I look so bleak. Be careful though as hibernation and being sedentary can be hazardous. If this happens, try borrowing a bit of summer’s “get up and get going” attitude.

Dear grieving heart, it is good to remember that no matter how heavy your heart, there is always beauty around you. I am magnificent in the early morning when Father Sun glistens off new fallen snow. Remember to treat yourself to such pleasures which are healing balm for your soul.

Grieving is hard work, be gentle with your heart, honor your grief, for it needs time, and it too has its seasons. Eons of winter grieving has taught me a thing or two, so I offer this advice:

• Give your slippery, slushy heart a break. I promise no matter how intensely your grieving heart hurts, it will not freeze to death.
• Feeling muddled is part of grief. The numbness you feel will melt when my sister springtime arrives, you will not feel this way forever.
• The blustery whipping shifts of emotion will die down, the unexpected weeping for your loved one will one day become a cherished whisper.
• For now, brace yourself against the wind, sit by the fire with a cup of tea or a glass of wine and know that this too will pass. I am only one season of four. Take comfort in the resilience of my trees, flowers, rivers, and mountains.

“Just remember in the winter, far beneath the bitter snows, lies the seed that with the sun’s love in the spring becomes the rose.”         

(The Rose, Bette Midler)

Lovingly,

Mother Earth