24 February 2024
The days have felt particularly cold these past two months. It may be some atmospheric condition…or the sensitivity of this aging, arthritic body and unyielding bones begging to cope with an icy humidity. Only soft wool tights and thick sherpa linings in sweatshirts seem to help.
After a quiet prayer to ask for a bit of understanding and relief, I decided to take a walk in the biting air…just around the block. I felt the need to think, reflect, approach the insanity of today with the intended calm and wisdom needed to return to a clarity I used to know.
Inhaling the cold air deeply through my nostrils and holding my breath for several seconds, then exhaling through my mouth remained a technique taught during intensive surgery recovery…to calm the body and mind. And in the frigid aid, that guided sense of purpose during a simple walk in an intentional moment seemed to change everything.
Then at once, a rush of security wrapped me in a wave of warm comfort and I looked up into a dappled gray sky with the sun attempting to break through cloud cover. The trees along the street reached leafless towards the sky. There in the middle of one tree was a summer remnant, who knows from how many years ago.
A wiffle ball stuck in between branches — the past frozen and hidden for at least one season, maybe more, felt reassuring. At least, to me at that moment, that wiffle ball symbolized the joys of a past, recent or far, retaining its meaning, a reminder of my past that is still present. Present enough for a smile on a dark, dull day, for my warmth in a cold, difficult afternoon, and hope for a tomorrow of clarity when an inevitable return to love and kindness regain their rightful place in life.
