By choice, I trek through life at a rather brisk rate. I thrive on moving it, shaking it and stirring it up. And though Alaskan winters create the perfect environment to hibernate, in spite of storms and dropping temperatures, I snowshoe in the back country, strap on my crampons and climb elevations and cross-country ski wooded trails. I attend cultural events, enjoy social engagements and - I imagine and I create and I play through the dark and cold months until the sun’s warmth opens up this Northern country; then, I pick up my pace.
This winter, however, I intentionally geared down and I spent the season, primarily, in quiet solitude. I work from home with an every other week off schedule. The step back from the office place buzz, number crunching, competitive focus felt like a gift from above. The snowfall was perfect for winter sports, but I felt no compulsion to participate - not once. Instead I’d board my elliptical and work my heart rate up to a happy rhythm while looking out over the lake from the warmth of my lil haven. On occasion I’d host gatherings but I rarely left my home except for supplies and Sunday Services. And . . . I loved the peace. I loved the . . . peace. I rented a cabin with a wall of windows that look out over the North shore of Whisper Lake. It sits up on a knoll nestled in the woods and I watched life on the lake unfold; snow machines roared over the frozen water all hours both day and night, skiers cross-countryed along the shoreline, from the center of the lake, fireworks lit up the night sky over the Christmas and New Year holidays, small planes took off flying in front of my windows and wildlife housed in my yard for the duration. Domesticity took on a pleasure I’d not indulged for some time. I concocted dishes and baked earthy delights. My home often smelled of cinnamon and honey coated grains and nuts as they roast in my oven into a gloriously, golden granola. The aroma took me back to the days when my babies still lived at home; when blankets draped the kitchen table and imaginings transpired within the walls of their ‘tent,’ when toys littered the floor and when squabbling and laughter filled the spaces. Over the course of the winter months I spent time creating, though, I rarely posted, I rarely blogged. Somehow autonomy lent to peace and I embraced my independence. For I am learning that solitude provides an opportunity for honest contemplation, for healing, for rejuvenation and for discovery. As the oldest of six and the mother of four, seclusion was an unfamiliar state and I confess, the thought of isolation use to frighten me for I equated this with loneliness, with pain, with emotions too intense to understand, with unresolved disappointments, with rejection, with confusion. But now, I view solitary time as a place to assuage fears and to promote productivity, to broaden understanding and to enhance joy, to work through to forgiveness and to embrace love. For rejuvenation’s and healing’s - processes - begin only when pain and disappointment and confusion are addressed and subsequently attended - attended with care and respect and fierce determination in the quiet of one’s heart. Life is good in the midst of all the action and life is most definitely good when gifted a season of solitude. Granola 1/2 c wheat germ 1/2 c pumpkin seeds 1/2 c sesame seeds 6 c oats (thick cut) 1/2 c coconut 1 c sunflower seeds 1/2 c chia seeds 1/2 c hemp hearts 1 c nuts (your favorite) 1 c bran 1/2 t salt 1 T cinnamon 1/2 c oil (olive) 3/4 - 1 c honey (Sweet Tooth) 1 c dried fruit (optional) (add after roasting nuts & grains) Mix dry ingredients. Combine oil and honey and add to dry ingredients; stir until equally distributed (you may have to work the mixture with your hands). Spread a layer of nuts and grains approximately 1” or so in depth into a baking pan and roast at 325 degrees for 15-20 minutes - until golden. Stir often during baking to prevent burning around the edges of the pan. When golden, pour into a large bowl, add diced dried fruit (Optional: dates, mango, figs, currents, raisins). Stir periodically until cool to prevent clumping.
0 Comments
|
AuthorAs a young adult, I believed there to be a point of arrival; a place where internal struggles with fear or anger or confusion give way to assurance and appropriate displays of passion and clarity of thought and direction. Where striving with relationships transform into understanding and acceptance and the propensity to self-protect shifts to trust and confident vulnerability. However, to my dismay, I was startled to learn, through a friend in her 80s, my perception was most definitely a misconception. Archives
November 2024
Categories - Personal Growth |