Happy February! Apparently spring will come early this year: Punxsutawney Phil emerged from his burrow and didn’t see his shadow. I mean, I love it - a rodent who tells us the weather!? Overseen by the “Inner Circle,” who are required to wear tophats and bowties? Pure whimsy and delight. But also: is there a clearer cultural embodiment of our distaste for winter than praying that a woodchuck will end the season early?? (Why yes, my Googling did just teach me that a groundhog and woodchuck are the same thing).
Have you started Winter Camp yet? It’s not too late to set something up for February. I’ve loved hearing what people are doing. Janet is skating on the lake and drinking good Turkish coffee by the beach. Frances is going on a snowdrop walk to see the forest filled with white buds, then getting wood-fired pizza. Lauren had her friends over for pasta making (and eating).
February is funny. Even as I crave activity, having recently signed up for a second weekly pottery class and planning a day with friends at the sauna this weekend, I am still trying to hold onto winter’s slowness. A few weeks ago, I roused myself to go to a yoga class despite feeling tired and low-energy. After twenty minutes of sun salutations, I was just kind of over it. The teacher had mentioned - kindly, insistently, repeatedly - that it was always possible to take things at your own pace, make modifications, do what felt right. I decided to really take her words to heart, and I laid down, face up, on my mat.
I initially intended to just take a small break. But when I tried to get up and get back into the flow, I felt woozy, blech. So I laid back down and closed my eyes. It felt so nice. The teacher came over, asked if I was okay, and I told her I was and decided to just give myself permission to lay there. It was - let’s say - a particularly tired time of the month for me, and so I let myself be. I had done as much yoga as I wanted to do that day.
After my discomfort and embarrassment faded, there was something so soothing about laying still in a room full of people moving. Once I really decided that all I was going to do for the rest of class was lay down and be still, the instructor’s directives washed over me. I breathed with everyone in the room even as I did my own thing. I felt like an oasis of calm amidst a swirl of activity.
It became an interesting practice in being in the world without getting caught up in it. So much of trying to slow down can feel like that: like everything around us is rushing around, trying to pull us into the current. Our challenge is, when we’re craving stillness, to let ourselves stay put even as things flow around us.
This week, your challenge is to see where and when you can be an oasis of calm. Maybe for you this means going out to a bustling place and having a moment of quiet by yourself: reading a book out in the world, going to a noisy bar to have a drink by yourself. Maybe you are constantly in a swirling vortex of urgency, and merely taking a few deep breaths and grounding yourself, not matching the energy of the people around you - at work, at home - is enough. Maybe at a raucous dinner or lively gathering you step out into the night for a few minutes of quiet. See how it feels to purposefully snatch a moment of stillness. Let yourself practice resisting the flow, just a little, to find ways to slow down despite the outer world.
I want to hear what you do and how it goes. Where can you find your little oasis? You can also always reach me directly at kari@karileibowitz.com.
Notes from the slush pile:
This week, I had an amazing virtual workshop on friluftsliv at the National Nordic Museum (it was so much fun to see some Wintry Mixers in the chat there!). If you missed it, The Seattle Times ran a great article on friluftsliv, with tips from locals and some top-notch polar bear illustrations.
On January 21st, Tromsø welcomed back the sun after two months away - with pastries, of course. In Tromsø, solbolle - or “sun buns” appear in shops and bakeries at the end of January to welcome back direct daylight.
Did you know that winter makes sunsets especially vibrant? Well-formed winter clouds, coupled with the sun’s angle in winter, provides the perfect backdrop for some stunning sunsets. Here’s one from my hometown of Asbury Park, New Jersey.
Kari I love how you took your yoga teacher up on her invitation to make modifications. You made adjustments to allow your body to do just what it wanted to do in that moment - bold move! I too have let the yoga class move on while I clung to a position I needed more of. Sometimes the best move is allowing for stillness! From a yoga rebel sister!