imageWinter always seemed to be a barren , desolate and forgotten time of existence to me that I merely endured. It always seemed that all those days it held in its cold grip were empty of any purpose. It did not inspire the awe and creativity the other seasons seemed to own. The awakening of Spring. The accomplishment of Summer. The expression of coming to a end in fall.

It came to me in a instant as I was toiling the soil with my bare hands kneeling in front of a flower bed I had planted bulbs to bloom in spring and summer. As I felt the texture of the cool dirt on my hands I realized in a moment the intelligence that gives rise to all the other seasons qualities is nurtured, incubated and sewn with the wisdom of Winters icy grip.

The frozen buried lifeless skeletons of past seasons expression and harvested soil frozen and covered in snow is a incubator of what is to come and grow.

What we can’t see or understand is the  making of what is held in the grasp of winters expressionless hand. The birth of tomorrow is planned in the dream of winters sleep. What appears hollow and without insight is the making of what the other seasons keep.

The winter of the seasons lives in our lives. The times when we feel empty and don’t see a path. Things we trusted and people we thought close are not their for us and we question ourself and what we are worth.  Its in these times of our life that we hold close to a  faith that a intelligence greater then anything we can think is using this time to reconstruct our fate that will serve a purpose for our dreams to come true.

Life is meant to serve itself and we are life doing just that. The little thoughts we have of who and what we are, are not even close to describing the brilliance we own. Letting go of our fear and looking into the dark for the light is what allows us to grow more then what we think we know. The problem or the fear is what we let go of when we have faith. In that action we awaken from a dream that has us trapped in a thought of need.

 

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