This Californian still struggles with winter. Instead of going inward, pressing pause on the outside world, and enjoying the slowness of things, I’ve found myself dealing with big things over the last few years; a breakup, a new town and melancholy, existential dread while watching the warmongering, immigration bureaucracy, etc.
This year isn’t any different, other than gaining some awareness that I can choose something different. I can go inside, allow myself to not immediately respond to that favor request from the other, wait an extra week to turn in that paper (it’s Christmas time in Spain after all, where everything is slowing down).
The temperatures drop to 0º and I gave myself permission to delete instagram, re-start mantra meditation, unsubscribe to the podcasts with their cháchara, journal more, turn the heater up a little more, and be kinder to my self.
I’m interested in writing more without the masks though I don’t know where to begin and how much to divulge. Let’s see what happens in next year.
