Transparency of Winter

‘Trees’  By Stanley Donwood.
Places where leafs once stood grew into passages.
In winter there is transparency.
Most trees in the woods are bare by now.

They touch me with a question: is the shedding of the surface a passage to depth?

Like trees we also wear covers, some of which we have become so used to, that we call our own.

But who am I without the garments of definitions and identity?

Winter calls for the essence, for the very bones of life.

However, too much attachment to the surface generates noise. It's hard to hear what is beneath the skin: fear, pain, warmth or space.

Slowing down, dripping down, drop by drop into the body and finding the bottom where to dissolve tensions and weights, help us perceive more clearly.

Clarity is the virtue of the quiet waters gathered in the deepest places.

Somehow we need bear vulnerability in order to be shown what is truly essential and last longing.

While some things decline and fall, others become more perceptible: the reality of the dark, the impulse for wholeness and beauty lying at the very bottom-side of life.


Wood Wide Web

Have you felt your roots underground?
There is a community and wisdom gathered right now under your very feet.

Transparency in winter, inspire us to empty ourselves of the unnecessary or life-taking. It also show us that being bare is a risk not taken lightly. That for the undoing, we need to learn how to rely on something close to our roots that is good and resilient. Something of the ancient.
Our ancestors.
Our origin.