Last week’s freeze with scant snow and a layer of ice put me in a holding pattern. It was silent as the world slowly awoke that morning. No birds sang. No squirrels chattered. All God’s creatures were hunkered down as temperatures hovered below twenty degrees. I include myself among those hunkered creatures, barely moving all day as I nested in my cozy spot, dressed in pajamas and bathrobe, swaddled in a blanket. Looking out my window high above the street, I could see that the road and the cars were coated in a layer of glossy ice.
The flight of concrete stairs from my house to the street was encased in ice, too, making it hazardous to attempt a descent, so I stayed unmoving all day, reading, and watching the world from my vantage point. It was an unexpected, forced sabbath. I was frozen in, literally and figuratively.
I don’t often stop and just keep in a holding pattern all day. There are things that need to be done—groceries to shop for, plants that need tending, clothes that need washing. And there are things that I want to do—meeting a friend for coffee, visiting my parents, playing with my grandchildren.
The busyness of life, or the business of life, keeps me moving. Even when I’m in nature, attentive to what the Universe has to teach me, I am usually walking, rarely stopping for any length of time. I do take time during the day, usually in the early morning, to gather myself and my plans, but that involves a lot of mental movement.
I have had the experience of being spiritually and emotionally frozen. When life is overwhelming, sometimes I just shut down. Perhaps I use busyness as a means of icing myself in, walling myself off from the world and from myself. It’s as if my emotions are encased in ice. It’s a defense mechanism I’m sure, a mode of survival. Eventually though, I will want to escape, break free from the solid immovable ice sculpture I’ve become.
Sometimes it happens unexpectedly. Memories, beauty, and love have a way of warming my heart again, and, with time, thawing occurs. My heart melts in a puddle, all the emotions I had frozen away now oozing out, trickling into all the cracks and crevices of my heart and my life.
Other times, it takes effort on my part. When I sense an unease, a disgruntlement with myself, when I realize that I am clinging to a worn out pattern that doesn’t serve me anymore, I often turn inward. If I reach deep into my soul toward the god-spark within, realizing that I am whole and that I am loved, I can rekindle the tiny flame that will melt my heart. And if I can just focus on that space within, breathe deeply into my heart, knowing that I am taking in Spirit that is all around with each breath, the warmth of the breath, takes the chill off.
For only in the deep sense of knowing that we are loved will our souls thaw.