Winter Stomp

Last night it rained. It rained violently, noisily outside my window. And when it paused, I could hear the wind tearing through the branches plastered with wet leaves. The air was cool and so I opened my window a hand’s width just to feel the movement across my body of the loving cold air. Yesterday for the first time, some of the leaves on my 60 year old maple tree turned red. It was as if a switch was thrown and all of the full on green clicked into another color. I don’t know when it happened. I wasn’t watching. I paid no attention.

my neighbourhood

The steady flow of guests from around the world continues to pass through my house. I hold space for them. I clean and put the crayon colored sheets on the beds while I say a blessing in my mind. “May you sleep deeply. May you heal. May you be at peace in this room.”

One room has the head of Quan Yin placed high above the beds looking down upon the constantly rotating guests. She blesses them as they rest between their days driving the long roads of British Columbia.

season shifts

One room has a Buddhist blessing on a scroll next to their bed. It is a gift from a caring neighbour to me so it is twice loving.

Yesterday I paused. I pulled myself off of the field of activity and benched myself. Naturally, I cleaned rooms and did laundry. Naturally, I did guest reviews and contacted new guests but I spent almost the entire day in New Zealand in a Netflix series. I sat on the beach with the characters and watched the waves. I moved down the streets with the Palm Trees and blue skies. It was a day of an alternative reality.

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winter silence

Once or twice I thought: “You are not working toward your goals.” But I easily dismissed the self-criticism.

When I awoke this morning, we had travelled to another season. Sometimes I see the house as a riverboat moving constantly to a new destination.

Today, Winter has definitely stomped into the valley. The hills are obscured by the gray that comes down on Kelowna in the winter. It is silent outside the windows. No tourists are yelling over their cars at one another about where they will meet their friends.

No dogs are barking or children’s laughter moves under my windows.

And I think to myself about pauses. I think to myself about the times that are not remarkable. Nothing in particular happened yesterday and yet everything has changed.
The transition from one form of energy to another is often unrecognizable. The moment when an old way of being is done and a new begins can be silent, still, and unobserved.

Winter is stomping into the valley and it brings the cold fresh air flowing in the windows. I think, “What next? What will happen next?”