Friday, January 10, 2014
Winter's end is mystic.
It is an ethereal time that lingers between that which is dead, and that which yearns to be born. It is a time of shifting, you can feel the energies moving if only you stand still. You can see the evidence; dead branches hosting bumps of buds yearning to burst out of the death grip of the cold bark, sunset casting golden passages to a new world over old trees, tiny little birds chirping a new song that appear and disappear as if ghosts. The transition is all around us. It is the fight between the last curmudgeonly grip of winters death and the yearning of new life to burst free and breath.
January is a time of endings, of new starts and of planning. Winter's end, Spring waiting patiently in the wings, a whole new cycle of life to plan for; and for me and end to my 9th year of marriage and a start to my 10th year of marriage, an end to my Christmas break and a start to my Storytelling Season and my Teaching, making Lesson Plans for Teaching my Creative Writing Classes and for my After School Writer's Group in St. Louise de Marillac School in Ballyfermot are in the make; and ideas and schedules for my idea-baby, The Sea Speak Project my Storytelling gem, and all those joggling-act plans for making my Arts Dreams come true.
Is January really a time of death or a time of life?
Whist pondering and planning I partook in my favourite past time, one I have spent a life time perfecting to an Art form, that of Daydreaming. I stared out the window, casting my eyes to the trees behind my house only to find delight of delights. I ran outside with my camera and snapped the sun casting golden drapes and haunting shadows of light on dead trees.