READER POST: I used to really hate winter.
A sharp, bone-slicing, we-do-not-negotiate-with-terrorists hatred.
I noticed that we always talk about the earth as a mother. Hey, I’m a mother! Maybe I could pick up a few lessons from The Master Mother? I was starved for some kind of pattern of a proper mother, since my own was too overwhelmed to really show up and I didn’t want to repeat that.
Culturally, I was trained that mothers are ALWAYS loving, ALWAYS giving, ALWAYS ready to diffuse a nuclear toddler, and ALWAYS happy to make food for the masses. (Honest opinion? June Cleaver was probably using cocaine.)
But here’s why winter is now one of my favorite seasons ever.
The earth is so unyielding, so relentless in its refusal to nourish anyone before herself. Mother Winter is bitter cold, seemingly dark much of the time, and, on encountering her, the natural reaction is to head inside to be soothed with warm cups of tea and roaring fires.
Light bulb moment, folks.
The earth is resting. RESTING! That thing we pretend we don’t need in the modern world. The thing we make fun of each other for needing.
And boy, does every mom I know need some serious down time. (Plus heaps of other people, too.) Now, I’m not one to start the Whose Pain is Bigger Olympics–where no one ever wins–but let’s be honest here. You’re lying to yourself if you think there is someone more burned out than a stay-at-home parent of tiny humans.
So now as I drive the snowy roads and say good-bye to the sun at 5 p.m., I can channel Mother Earth’s divine wisdom if I listen closely to the wind.
“Leave me alone and let me get some $%@&!+? sleep.”
READER BIO: Lizza Jacobs describes herself as a soul traveler, home birther, yogi, maker of food from scratch, art historian, dancer, healer, and mindfulness lover.
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