I write this while watching the rain fall and listening to the wind whistle outside the window of our beach house. This is winter weather in the Bay of Plenty, on the east coast of NZ’s north island. Earlier this morning, the Wanderlust Juniors and I speed-walked to school, huddled together under an umbrella bent out of shape by a strong wind gust. Yet, it’s also warm out, with a daily high of 15-16°C. It would be embarrassing of me to complain about the lack of sunshine in such mild winter weather. I have never been a fan of cold weather, and I love rainy days, with their invitation for introspection.
The Wanderlust Juniors share their puzzled thoughts with me: “When are we going to celebrate Christmas?” I explained to them, again, that although the winter season in NZ is in June, July, and August — the months that we have come to think of as a time of hot, lazy days that stretch on — Christmas is celebrated everywhere in the world on December 25th, regardless of the season. I sympathise with my children’s confusion. A winter without snow does not feel unusual to me. Growing up, I spent several years in Israel where winters were rainy, with a wet chill, similar in fact to winters in our part of NZ. Yet, it does feel odd to think of winter without Christmas and New Year’s Eve, just as, I am sure, it will feel especially strange to celebrate those holidays in the midst of summer.
During a Skype conversation, my mother-in-law shows off a beautiful shift dress that she wears almost on a daily basis, telling me that the weather in the Toronto area has cooled down slightly after last week’s 30°C. We purchased the dress together, three summers ago, at an outdoor market in Kincardine, Ontario while on a summer holiday. I sit at my computer with the heater before me, snuggled inside my favourite grey wrap cardigan that she gifted to me two years ago. The cardigan, the dress, and my in-laws’ faces so close to mine, separated only by the screen of the laptop, blur the mid-summer and mid-winter into one undefinable interconnecting season.
Favourites from around the web:
“Time scarcity is like kryptonite for creativity. If we want to create an environment that nourishes innovation and imagination, we need to build quiet counterpoints into our daily rhythm. These small moments of “white space”— where we have time to pause and reflect, or go for a walk, or just breathe deeply for a few moments — are what give balance and flow and comprehension to our lives as a larger whole.”
“Watching Eli throw himself into every social encounter, it occurred to me that, in similar situations, I focus so much on saying exactly the right thing that I hardly pay any attention to the other person. I’m more concerned about how I look to them than I am about getting to know them. Lacking that concern, Eli grasped what has long eluded me: that most people aren’t excessively judgmental. They’re quick to forgive. And more often than not, they want to connect.”
Previously on Mindful Daydreamer:
A year ago on the blog: Multipotentiality Exploration
Two years ago on the blog: Watching and Weaving
Wishing you a fulfilling weekend!