Winter’s Intensity

As we are immersed in the depths and intensity of winter (my least favorite season), I find myself remembering this one line from a Walt Whitman poem, "I sound my barbaric YAWP over the roofs of the world."

That feels about right to me, a "barbaric YAWP" of intensity. In line with my own growing edge, I thought there might be a lesson here for me. Maybe I can take a cue from Mother Nature, and despite my distaste for the cold, the snow, the ice, and the barrenness, I could embrace the undeniable passion with which it comes to us. I mean, it's really winter! I don't have to like that it's winter. I can choose to go away some place warm or simply hide away in my house with the heat turned up, covered by a big blanket and a variety of cats, but still...it's WINTER!

So, maybe there's a way to appreciate the conviction with which it presents itself. Winter is not shy or coy. Winter is not concerned with whether or not I like it. Winter simply IS! With all its beauty and ugliness, I never doubt whether or not winter means to be here. It simply IS here... so, what if the same is true about me, and about you?

What if there's no need to apologize for what our individual truths are? No matter how loud my voice is, it matters. So does yours! Not because I say so, or believe it to be so, but because it IS so, just as it is winter.

I find this leading to a celebration of intensity and power. Mine, yours, and Mother Nature's. Is this one of those, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em moments? Maybe, but I prefer to think of it as a chance to "sound my barbaric YAWP over the roofs of the world." I'd love to hear yours, too!

Warm regards with great power and intensity,
Joanne Lutz