Wintering is nearly finished. The mountain is slowly awakening from hibernation. Golden beeches sprinkled throughout the woods are now flanked with the first buds of spring; a visual transition from rest to arousal.
This morning, I went out into the warm sun to check my herb garden for signs of growth. The oregano and mint are promising, with lots of new buds protruding through the leaf cover. The thyme though? Eh. Too early to tell. I can’t help but relate. There are scraggly signs of awakening, but mostly still dormant. This winter has been the best winter. Choosing to rest and lean into the natural rhythm of the season made all of the difference. I’d say so much so, that I’m a bit groggy as I reluctantly attempt to ready myself for the energy of spring and the demands of Quarter 2-Quarter 4 that will bring art shows, wedding paintings, and summer art camps.
I wonder if it’s the lingering fatigue of the virus I had a couple of weeks ago? Or maybe a result of restless sleep from the steroids trying to treat said virus. Unfortunately for me, with depleted energy comes frequent intolerance as well. I’ve already overdone it. I’ve ventured into too many bargain stores during weekend prime-time and shown up to one-too-many crowded gatherings with overwhelming opinions and unsolicited advice. Where my tank had been slowly filling back up in preparation for warmth, I’m now back at “E.”
A plus of the fatigue: time to read. I’ve long been a fan of the self-help genre. As a matter of fact, It’s been long enough to make these types of reads a bit repetitive by now. The Alchemist, though, is a breath of fresh air. For me, the book itself literally became a physical manifestation of the story inside; the universe (specifically God) conspiring to help me achieve my goals and dreams as an artist, and reminding me to help others on their journeys as well.
As I march onward for the next couple of weeks towards spring, this passage will resonate:
Hearts do whisper things to keep us on track; Moments of resolve when stepping out of a room of diet talk and onto a cafe rooftop table with your best friend, garlic bread, a river view, and no “fix-you” advice. Feelings of release when you bypass unsolicited employment opportunities in favor of invitations from family and friends wanting to visit the gallery and see your latest artwork on exhibit.
I don’t like going out into the world tired, intolerant, and on “E.” I don’t possess the kindness and grace required to navigate the inevitable well-meaning annoyances and inconveniences. In these moments of depletion, I also don’t have the necessary consciousness to realize when I’m being the annoyance or inconvenience in other people’s lives. So, I plan to milk these next two weeks of winter, listening to all the little heart moments from now until then, allowing them to fill my tank back up, and hopefully to overflowing.
Art business owner journaling about my artistic adventures.