In the Bleak Midwinter
The living foundation of us all. The underlying heart, which continues to beat out it’s rhythm when all seems lost.
The joyful, which in another season’s time would raise a smile, is met by the hard gaze of frozen ground that no nourishment or distraction can melt. The beauty of the brown barren land is lost to us as we seek in vain the colour and warmth from a distant time.
We long to move on, to leave behind the chilling air which engulfs as fog and cloys our every thought. We plough our way through the detritus at our feet, heavy with sodden tears. And wearily we sigh as all we turn over is bleakness. This internal airing of spinning thoughts, wringing them dry until they fall as fragile leaves at our feet, serves to relieve the burden we heavily bear.
Temporarily in the lightness of an empty mind, unsure and wary of the way forward, impatiently we scuff the ground with our feet. And there we catch a glimpse among the array of wintry browns, a tiny shoot of brightest green, tender, vulnerable and yet poised to unfurl. A symbol of our inner desire conscious or not as it begins to once more stir, the manifestation of a living, hidden current which runs through.
When all you see is fog across the land, or dust settled on a lost love’s rose, smile and be sure for the light is yet to be revealed.
Painting ‘Reflections Unfurled’ by Rebecca Pells