yin & yang
Sometimes I get a little down, with the winter cold beginning to creep in under doorways and settle in my bones. I don’t like winter very much. I’ve been diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder before — although I just think this is normal, to feel a little blue and slow and sleepy when the world lies dormant around you.
But yesterday, when I was having these thoughts, I stumbled upon this lovely little reminder to accept what is now in the garden. These two vines have died after twisting so tightly around one another that they can no longer be separated. So far as I can tell both are identical, born from two seeds of my family heirloom half-runner beans. (Although they might be from two different versions of the seed.) But one has died and gone white, and the other has died and turned black.
My own little yin yang symbol in the garden. A reminder that we need this dormant time. The Earth needs a rest. The very soil of our Being sometimes needs a rest. Without that drawing inward, that cold and brittle and slow-moving time, there would be no miracle of spring to delight us come March — with light, and warmth, and the glory of rebirth.
And there is still plenty of Beauty out there, for those with eyes to see it (and that’s all of us, when we slow down a little and listen to our souls’ whispers and truly look.)