A Space for Light

February is a tough month. It’s a sort of chasm between the slog of winter and the promise of spring. For those living in warmer and milder climates, this may not apply. But as a citizen of Colorado, believe me when I say it: I’m SO ready for spring!

It’s a tough time, the holidays are over, the lights are down, and the New Year is in full swing.

Don’t get me wrong, winter holds a beauty all its own. On my way to work a few days ago, the air was crispy. White crystals had settled on the trees and grass, and their reflection in the sunlight was breathtaking. Rugged and cold beauty. I love it!

But the earth is also dry and a bit muted. The once pristinely white snow now lays black, dirty, and lumpy against the side of the road. Spring, I am ready!

I am ready for a change in season; and that’s why I love living in Colorado where we have four seasons. Just about the time I’m tired of one, the next one peaks over the horizon and comes meandering (or thundering) in.

And I’m ready for the light of March.

This is the real lesson of winter. The short days and dark corners challenge me. For some it is organic, they have a real reaction to the lack of light: depression, sadness, seasonal affective disorder. I don’t have a diagnosis, but I do have a bit of melancholy. Living in Colorado helps. We get about 300 days of sunlight. So even in the depths of winter, I can face the sun and breathe. Deeply.

The real lesson of winter is to find beauty and color right where we are. The brilliance of sunlight dancing on the trees that morning reminded me of this truth. Seek out the beauty right where you are. It may take getting a sun-lamp to keep the sadness at bay. Or reading. Or chatting with an old friend. Or running. Or yoga. Or laughing. I’m partial to rolling on the floor with my two year old. Nothing gets me laughing harder than hearing his laugh.

So dear earth, I thank you for your lesson in patience. I thank you for reminding me of the beauty that is all around me, regardless of the season or the temperature.

I am listening. And in that quiet space, I hear the birds singing and a child laughing. I am seeking. And in that journey, I am discovering the beauty to be found on a cold day in February: the velvety red painted on a finch, dancing white light on an ice-covered blade of grass, the brilliant blue of a Colorado sky.

What a gift! What a lesson!

Call to Action: What color can you find and be grateful for in your own life?