Once again, January has locked the Northland in a deep freeze.
With the cold temperatures, little moves. The creek has numerous ice bridges over it and the little bit of running water moves toward the river like liquid gelatin. In an otherwise silent world, the river itself is full of ice flows, creating an unearthly groaning sound as they bounce off the frozen bank. The chickadees, jays and nuthatches stay busy at my bird feeder, a little more frantic for the food that will sustain them in these cold temperatures. They have become friendlier, grateful I imagine for the unending source of seed I am able to provide. They speak little, too busy eating for warmth than having conversation over a meal. The deer move in each evening for a snack on what’s left of the corn I’ve thrown down for the jays. The squirrels have moved inside their tree-top nests, the partridge and rabbits are buried deep in their snow caves. There is little evidence of night activity beyond a few mice prints on each night’s new snowfall. Life moves minimally. Everything has fallen silent.
And even though we have so little light during these days of January, I too feel the urge to close my eyes and enjoy the peaceful darkness of a nap. While I excel at napping any time of the year, my body seems to be designed for this midwinter type of siesta. In January I take napping to new levels, finding accessories like a down duvet, body pillows, hot baths and intoxicating scents sprayed on these adornments. I am a pro. What Mother Nature doles out at other times of the year, warm sunlight, breezes carrying heady smells, a hot sandy beach or the lapping of waves on the shoreline, I have learned to manufacture in my frozen north.
I’ve been good at napping all my life. Falling asleep during required nap time was embarrassing when I was in kindergarten and Brownies. I had no problem closing my eyes and drifting off. But I’d wake with all my mates staring and giggling at the spittle running down my chin, my damp mat-crushed hair, and one wrinkled and red cheek that had previously been plastered to my sleeping surface, usually a rug. They, of course, had not slept at all and had entertained themselves by watching me. I probably got unmentionable and gross things stuck in my nose, ears and mouth as I blissfully slept on. I’m thankful I’ll never know.
However lately, napping has new respect. Maybe I’m noticing more nap appreciation in others because I’m hanging out with an older, nap-loving crowd. Or perhaps folks of all ages are turning on to the power of a nap. Either way, I no longer get laughed at. I get envied. Those who do not have the time or a place in their day to nap, marvel at my ability to sack out for an hour or so each day. So, with new level of approval, I’ve improved my napping proficiency.
For those of you who want to learn napping, the single most important thing to understand is that napping embraces the often-forgotten talent of doing only one thing at a time and doing that one thing well. When you turn the prestige of being able to multitask on its head and elevate the old way of doing things, single-tasking, the lowly nap not only seems more respectable and even doable, it becomes art. Oh, granted, there are multiple benefits from napping; a sharper mind, better motor coordination, happiness, lower blood pressure, to name a few. But you are not the “doer” of these. You are, by simply taking a break and becoming a master of The Nap, “being,” the recipient of these, nothing more.
And as a reminder, all good things arrive when you’re sleeping; Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and even Spring. Try it.
"Think what a better world it would be if we all, the whole world, had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down on our blankets for a nap." ~Barbara Jordan
This month we had our annual January thaw, so common in the North that it does not need to be explained to anyone who has lived here for at least a year or two. During the thaw, our temperatures, while not exactly fall-like, are much more temperate. Sometimes even, the snow and ice, as the words "January thaw" imply, melt for an hour or so during midday. Even a string of two or more days, with temperatures only 5 or 10 degrees higher than our usual January fare, is significant cause for celebration. Add some sun, and those of us in the North Country are literally jolly, buoyed by the freedoms that come with the thaw; walking upright instead of bent over in order to watch where we place our feet and protect our face from the blowing snow, driving at the speed limit without worry about an upcoming patch of ice, and moving around the house into areas too cold to visit for more than a minute or two during most of the winter months.
I took a little survey while running errands during this month's thaw. I found no one who could explain to me why the thaw happens, even though we are enveloped in it every January like clockwork. And, there seems to be no guidelines as to how high the temperatures must rise and how long for the January thaw to be official. But frankly, when you're finally walking upright at more than a snail's pace, who cares?
Generally, I learned from those surveyed that a January thaw means temperatures are high enough to create dripping off the roof for at least an hour each day. That the phenomenon lasts at least 3 days but longer is better. And it's a grand year when the thaw is accompanied by the sun. And if we really dare to dream big, the thaw and the sun are best if arrival coordinates with at least one weekend. It does in no way mean we lose all our snow. Some years even, it's agreed, the January thaw is not technically a "thaw" but nearer to high freezing temps.
As I write today, the snow is becoming heavy with moisture, falling off the trees and the banks of the creek, creating new noises for my big black lab to bark and growl at as it splashes into the creek. Lake ice is melting to an inch or two of water on the surface of 12 or more inches of ice. That water will immediately freeze tonight into fine skating-rink quality ice. There's a racket in the woods around my home as those who semi-hibernate come out of holes and burrows and dens and piles of snow to see what's up. I welcome the touch of the thaw for the subtle change in my sights, sounds and smells, for the sun on my face, for one less layer of clothing on our walks, and for the smiles and the change of conversation I get during my travels. I welcome it for the breather it gives me before we enter February and very cold temperatures. And I welcome the thaw for its prediction of the certainty of March. I welcome it for its spirit.
My friend David tells me the English word for spirit comes from the Latin spiritus, meaning "breath." He suggest that during this January thaw, the earth around me is engaging in a spiritual pursuit, breathing in and breathing out, expanding and contracting. And that's the gift, isn't it; to pay attention to just the simple things like the planet breathing.
"Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each." ~Henry David Thoreau.
In Roman mythology, Janus was the god of gates and doors, endings and beginnings. The month of January, the beginning of the New Year, is named for Janus. He is most often depicted as having two faces or heads, facing in opposite directions.
So in this new year, my friends, I hope you are facing your endings with satisfaction and your beginnings with joy!
Happy New Year! One of my missions is to help you all drop your New Year's Resolutions. So this month I'm revising and repeating my New Year's Theme article. It's the Chinese Year of the Monkey, after all. The year of Cleverness, Deception, Travel, Risk and Novelty! Nothing to "resolve" this year, my friends. Time for a little Monkey Business!
It's easy to make resolutions in the excitement of the New Year and the guilty awareness that you ate your way through the holidays. Sure, last year's resolution didn't make it past the middle of January, but hey, this year's going to be different, right?
So what is your New Year's resolution? Lose weight? Make more money? Spend less? More time with your family? Relax more? These are old favorites. “Old,” because they reoccur every year. We pull them down off the shelf we stuck them on last February, dust them off, and vow commitment this year. Ugh!
Here's the problem with resolutions. They don't make us FEEL good! We struggle because the resolution isn't right for us in the first place. It is full of inner conflicts that we don't see. Most New Year's resolutions try to “fix” something. We focus on what is missing or wrong, making the resolution a weak commitment.
But what if you approached your resolution playfully? It's the Year of the Monkey after all. Ask yourself, “What do I REALLY want?” There's a theme there. If you have resolved to lose weight, perhaps your theme is “Let's Give Them Something to Talk About.” It's not all about weight, is it? If your resolution is to make more money, maybe your theme is “What a Wonderful World” so you can feel abundance through gratitude first and then get creative about making money. And what about more time with your family? Perhaps a theme of “Getting to Know You” is more to the point. By the way, song titles are great themes. When you need a boost, just plug in the CD and dance!
A theme is meant to honor something. It focuses not on the completion but the doing. It's adventurous.
Maria turned 50 in November, 2002. In December she wanted to talk about reviving her old “resolution” to relax more. Maria has high standards at work and puts in 110% daily. But she knew something was missing when her friends stopped calling. “We just knew you'd be too busy” was the feedback. Maria had created a “busy-woman” reputation.
The only evidence Maria could give me that her old resolution, relax more, might work this year was that she had turned 50. “Not enough!” I said. I pointed out that resolving to relax more would just induce stress. We started playing with a theme.
A week later Maria called excited. Her theme was “Farming for Fun at Fifty.” Farming because she wanted to get to the root of things once and for all. Fun because she realized the old resolution of “relaxing” was merely a medication for a symptom. Fun was the cure. And, well, Fifty to honor the one thing Maria felt would make the difference in 2003.
Maria spent most of 2003 creatively immersed in her theme. She took a three-day weekend and hiked fifty miles. Another weekend produced a fifty-mile bike ride. She bought a box of crayons and created, framed and hung a picture of every fun thing she did. She read 50 novels by the end of the year. Maria has racked up one lunch a week away from work. “Getting to the root of things” also meant that Maria wanted to take a look at what was important to her. At the beginning of the year she donated 50 hours of her time, in one-hour increments, to her local Humane Society.
And here's the unexpected reward. Maria is due for a hefty bonus this year. When I asked about this, Maria said she was not so harried and more approachable at work. That made a huge difference in the way she was perceived. Coworkers are collaborating with her. And, Maria's doctor just informed her she has lost 21 ½ pounds. She's no longer using food for relaxation. Losing weight and the bonus were not her goals. They're just the little surprises that come from honoring her theme.
Maria and I are starting to talk about her 2004 theme. One of the interesting outcomes of this year's theme is that she's recognizing how creative she can be and wants to explore that more. Perfect for the Monkey year, don't you think?
Your Turn:
A Theme is Big. But don't lump a bunch of resolutions together, listing everything you've ever wanted to change. Just take one old resolution and keep asking yourself, “What do I REALLY want?” until you have something that expands you rather than making you a monitor of your behavior.
Word it Carefully. Resolutions are about willpower and tend to be expressed in bland terms. Themes are about experimenting and creativity and are expressed in a way that gets to the heart of what energizes you.
Embrace the Unknown. Trust that your theme will inspire. You don't have to create a list of everything you want to do on January 1. Just play with your theme and watch what happens as 2004 unfolds.
“I'm working all day and
I'm working all night
To be good-looking,
healthy, and wise.
And adored, contented, brave and well-read.
And a marvelous hostess,
fantastic in bed.
And bilingual, athletic,
artistic-----
Won't someone please stop me?” ~Judith Viorst
“May all your troubles during the coming year be as short as your New Year's resolutions.” ~Anonymous
“’Discipline.’ What a thankless word that is—and how beside the point.” ~Julia Cameron
