The human heart always reaches the melting point in the festive season.It encompasses sympathetic understanding of the beauty as an adornment of our inner landscape.
We taste the aliveness of the Yuletide with the unconscious hunger for celebration.In an inescapable cheer, we crave for love, irrespective of its form.
And happiness becomes mandatory, as homework. The barest the outdoor presentation of nature is, the more spectacular the indoor decorum will be.
We shall be wintering in the hearts and minds, with an unstoppable force of enchantment, in our inner beings until we rest and choose a peaceful retreat of our thoughts.
The whiteness of the season becomes elemental, a true field of wonder, a journal of future memories, a wound mended by hope. Wintering implies the hibernation of the soul like an undulating meditation of our interior garden.
I always like winter.It gives me the urge of discerning, of outlining my individuality and deciding the direction of my love.
I do not know about you, but for me, winter creates a different mental stature where I am prepared to find the sunlight of my being.
Thus, searching for spiritual rewards, I long for miracles, for my own salvation, paying admiring tribute to kindness, gratitude and love.
Every year, at the dawn of December, I begin to feel the eagerness of living in the company of my feelings, filling myself with the sugary joy. More than ever, I inevitably fall in love with life at its best.
My playful and poignant meditation on wintery matters is immediately followed by a pantagruelic fit of hunger. From hot chocolate to bombons, my emotional trajectory projects all my deep desires onto my savoury buds that defiantly ask for more.Another hunger for pleasantness and exaggerated sweetness carries me into the cinematographic frivolities. A totally elusive art of attaining immediate happiness through an epidemic of Christmas movies. The sillier, the better! I will watch everything. And cry, out of romanticism, craving for the grand gestures of affection that never really happens in real life.
I will not care about the poor performances of the actors, or the films’ asymmetries. My only reason for doing all these is to feel the crapulence of the season, the abundance of goodness.I call this ‘’ Gingerbread effect’’ syndrome, or we could simply call it ‘’eat and weep!’’
Now, everything is overwhelming, scarily beautiful and deep, like a sigh. It is the season of sublime boredom.
My festive soulbuds are craving for love and love alone. And I am getting lost in daydreaming, in buying unnecessary things that embellish the hearts of others with tenderness. Simple acts of kindness.
And I shall smile incessantly to unknown people in the street, dance like nobody watches and feel the sadness of the world as if it was a whiff of darkling matter that makes the light look brighter.
My Yule thrill embodies my desire to play with children and like them, doing foolish things. In awe I am while contemplating the pure snow lace of the season, looking like a new beginning.
There is a different kind of noise inhabiting my soul, the noise that belongs to the festive world around me. Thus, I shall listen to it, being allured by it and my human ear will grow keen enough to recognise the empathetic sound of souls, reunited in the collective chant of joy.
I carry the eagerness to help the universe to perform miracles in order to find love once more, even if it appears as a ruin of longing.
By honouring the magic of the season, I find comfort in my own heart by trimming the jubilant arbour of the forest with garments of my human soul. In the serenity of my thought, I encounter an intolerable happiness in the dreary space of my mind where the memories of the departed are kept.
In the mist of memory, I step into the portal of time to meet my old love for the ones who left, leaving silky, soft traces onto my soul. And like baked apples, and mulled wines, their poetry will warm my being with their sweetness.
I always consider that turning into winter is necessary in order to accept my own pain, to feel the clarity of my spiritual seasons and to overflow myself with love. Wintering is the true awakening when love infiltrates every inch of our being, celebrating the glory of our consciousness.
Save this festive swelling of the heart for the stormy times!
