fAngus and Ragnar · life · Minerva

A Time for Rest

It’s dark in Minnesota most of the time* these days. The sun comes up after 7:30am and sets by 4:30pm as we roll toward the winter solstice this weekend. Today is weirdly warm: everything is melting and rainy out, which seems odd and ominous. Not because of global warming, necessarily, although that’s an overriding issue, but because this soft and melty mush will be glare ice by the end of the day.

Current view from my temporary office, the very cramped space between the bedroom window and my side of the bed. But I can see all the delivery drivers and construction works coming up the driveway, and watch squirrels fight. Each other, not construction workers or delivery drivers, although I’d make popcorn for that.

*To my friends who lived in Oslo, Norway and others I know who live more North than I do, I know the 9am to 3pm midwinter sun is worse than a MN winter. I hear you, and good lord I hope you have enough coffee for December. And also, if you’re far enough North to be in Midnight Sun territory, do you just have a more extreme version of the sleep loss/sleep gain I get with stupid daylight savings time changes? Like, do you sleep almost not at all for light month in summer and sleep most of dark month in winter? Circadian rhythms must be wild up there.

Anyway, the world seems like it’s on fire lately with every day bringing another tragedy, another exhausting political display, another scary invasion notice, or another attempt to take rights away. The struggle to find something constructive to do that bolsters the self, the family, and the community, to keep the faith and find anything positive in the face of all the hate right now is overwhelming. So is the struggle to keep from becoming numb or burnt out and continue to have compassion and empathy.

On top of that, life continues flowing along and we’re in the midst of a holiday season when, in many faiths, good will toward others, generosity, light, and warmth are the high points of the darkest time of the year. So, as we approach the winter solstice I say this is a time to bring the light and welcoming generous spirit wherever you are able, how you’re able, and that includes to yourself!

Please, give yourself a little grace and compassion for getting through the day, especially if it’s not a joyous time. Grief manifests in so many ways, and this can be a dark season in all the definitions. I hope you are as gentle with yourself as you can be, and that the return of the light in the coming months brings renewed spirit for us all.

In the meantime, it’s ok to rest. Hugs are restorative, so are naps. If weather allows, walks in nature help sooth spirit. Make comfort food or order in. Watch whatever holiday movies help your mood. Take a hint from nature’s playbook and den up as much as you need:

Minerva, confidently sleeping the sleep of a dog who isn’t usually allowed in the bed but gets to be here while construction is going on. That isn’t a comforter: it’s an extra sheet we’re using as a hair-barrier over our actual bedding. No, we haven’t finished dusting after sheetrock install. Don’t judge me.
Ragnar snoring so loud it reverberates through the floor so SK can hear it in his office below this room.
The satisfied sleep of a fAngus who disappeared overnight, causing worry that he’d been left outside, only to emerge from the depths of the closet (which WAS CHECKED MULTIPLE TIMES) to yawn, poop on the carpet, and THEN run to the front door of the house to go out. I’m convinced there’s a cat portal to somewhere else in that closet.

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