Walking and Winter Contemplation

Welcome to 2024. How's the transition been for you?

Things mostly found on walks from my past.

Snow is falling in fat, heavy clumps outside and I suppose I have to admit that winter is officially here.

It’s been a strange season in northern Minnesota. Even today it’s 21°F (-6 °C), which might seem very cold to some of you, but it’s a mild January temp.

It’s felt strange, too.

The vibe feels off. It’s the only way I can put it.

The builders have thankfully moved from the house roof over to the garage and even more thankfully they’ve have transitioned from this project to another and won’t be back for another week or so. The house during the day is quiet. Yesterday and today I managed to clear up the dust layer in the studio from the work Dad’s been doing on the flooring. He ground into the chimney place to inlay the new floorboards, which shrouded the house in dust.

Now that he’s gone back to work and some semblance of a routine is reestablishing itself, I can have a look at the sewing machine.

In the meantime, I’ve been reading a lot. It’s the winter thing to do. It’s also the summer thing to do. It’s the every-time thing to do.

A couple of Agatha Christie’s relished in. A book about building residual income via the interwebs, Don’t Start a Side Hustle! (Do This Instead) by Brian Page. A book of poetry, Disability Isn’t Sexy by local author Erin Lynn Marsh. Mindset: The New Psychology of Success by Carol S. Dweck, in which I learned more about the growth mindset and how to cultivate it. I mentioned this concept here.

I’m in the middle of Trust Your Vibes by Sonia Choquette and my greatest accomplishment was finally, finally finishing Wanderlust: A History of Walking by Rebecca Solnit, a book I’ve been working on for years. I loved the book but the design, which had a wider-than-average column, made Solnit’s already jam-packed paragraphs heavier; rather than complementing her style, it felt, to be frank, laborious to read.

When I started the book I was drawn to long walks. I was dipping into Dorothy Wordsworth’s journals of her and brother’s walks around the UK (I must get these diaries back on my shelf). I read a memoir by a British writer in which she and her partner who had been diagnosed with a severe degenerative disease and had lost their home and livelihood, embarked on a south coast walk around Cornwall, The Salt Path, by Raynor Winn.

I watched the movie adaption of the memoir Tracks: A Woman's Solo Trek Across 1700 Miles of Australian Outback by Robyn Davidson, of a young woman who walked across the Australian Outback and The Way, starring Martin Sheen, who travels to France to collect the remains of his son who died in the Pyrenees while walking The Camino de Santiago and in his grief, continues to finish his son’s pilgrimage.

Cheryl Strayed’s Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail, of course. And a Bill Bryson book in there. I often feel the urge to start Tony Robinson’s Walking Through History over again and again (because walking AND history?! Yes, please, more please).

I dreamt of embarking on a walking holiday in the UK, walking from village to village and landing in a different, quaint bed and breakfast every night.

The speed of walking still entices me, as you might guess, but I’m less drawn to the long, arduous, even dangerous walks (let’s be real I was never going to brave the Australian outback… or the Pacific Crest Trail). But I am delighted by Instagram accounts in which the poster shares the seven-mile country walk he took from his front door. And YouTube channels in which a German couple find idyllic holiday lets in the British countryside, often taking us on walks. (I’m not kidding when I say these two might be the most endearing couple I’ve ever (not) met. Hashtag relationship goals.)

Of course, these fantasies take place in the UK where footpaths are abundant. It feels unsettling to me to walk along the county highway outside my current front door. Though I’m still surrounded by forests and fields, even aside from the anxiety caused by the, admittedly, minimal passing traffic at 55 mph, I feel separated from nature somehow. And I suppose the wide ditches, which were extended a couple of years ago, the DOT taking ten or fifteen feet of our trees, could create that feeling.

So my walks consist of making laps in a wide circle around the house through the backyard forest. Which is enough, and not really enough.

However, 2023 seemed to usher in (or continued to foster) a clearing of old ways of being and energies that no longer serve me. It seems I’m still discarding layers of the old versions of myself and the different people I wanted to be or thought I wanted to be in order, I suspect, to make space for whatever is now and next.

What remains will likely not be wildly different, just tweaked, focused, more embodied.

The ottoman pouf project, with its collected materials and shredded photos and ephemera, is an example of that. (I love repurposing, but I fear I may have to make some hard decisions when it comes to it or I could be carrying around these old vibes forever. Some things will just have to be rehomed/discarded/burned.)

I look forward to this process continuing to unfold in the coming year (I suspect, it will never truly be finished). I’ve never been much inclined to make New Year’s resolutions, and I’ve been delighted to see IG posts running along the lines of: January isn’t the time for resolutions or new beginnings, at least not here in the northern hemisphere, it’s a time for contemplation and introspection. It’s a time for quiet and stillness. Save the new starts for spring.

And I’ve been feeling that call into silence in my body. If I have any intentions for the season it’s to listen. And if I have any intentions for the year, it’s to watch it unfold. The creative projects will come.

Side note: I gave the sewing machine a little test yesterday. I deeply desired that whatever the problem was, it had somehow righted itself after a rest. It did not. It was worth a shot. :D

How are you feeling called to be this season? What’s your heart yearning for? Can you hear it?

With love,

A journal is the perfect way to embark on some depth of winter introspection. If you haven’t had the chance, have a look at the shop. I’m excited to get back in the studio and see what I may be able to add to the shop in the coming weeks and months.

If you’d like to bring even more ease and peace into these winter months, book a distance Reiki session with me. Just call or text 218 (dot) 422 (dot) 6082 to book a session. And please, let me know who you are/why you’re texting. I get a lot of spam messages from unknown numbers. I ignore them and I don’t want to ignore you! <3 <3 <3

And as always: