Metamorphosis
I’m grateful to winter for stripping away the unnecessary luxuries that distract me, allowing space to refocus on what is simple and important.
These long winter nights I am gifted the opportunity to pour love and attentiveness to the life conspiring inside of me. Am I more focused on what I lack, or what is ahead of me? Am I freely allowing myself to shed old skin, the one that doesn’t serve my well-being anymore?
“Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.“
- May Sarton
Superficialities, distractions, and vain conversations can’t save you in the winter. This season is full of wearing your heart on your sleeve, loving honestly, and forgiving yourself.
I have found a lot of solace in learning to live with the unknown and finding comfort in it. Life will go on no matter how I decide to feel. Why not try to live as gracefully as I can? Prioritizing patience and kindness in my discomfort.
That is the beauty of Winter, it feels honest.
The green pastures are no longer.
The once busy streets now echo in silence.
This silence doesn’t have to be painful, I can love it. I will learn to love what is difficult.
That what is difficult, makes me softer. Without strife there is no understanding.
Without understanding, there is no gain.
Those who are self-aware and choose to endure their lessons rather than avoid them come out stronger, carrying an unraveled understanding of what they are undergoing.
Within each of us lies a source of life, a quiet spring of inspiration and survival.
Winter to me is metamorphosis. I am becoming.
I am learning to exist bravely, loudly, and delicately.
With love,
Joanna
your style is so captivating, I love it <3
“That what is difficult makes me softer” I had to sit with that line for a moment. Most of us are taught that difficulty should make us harder, more armoured. You’ve flipped it completely, and somehow it feels more true. There’s a kind of courage in choosing softness as the response to strife rather than the absence of it. This read like a quiet letter to yourself that accidentally became exactly what someone else needed to hear today.