Winter So Close

Wintering, the Process

This time of year, stirs so many feelings and memories for me, as I’m sure it does for you. So, here’s my annual address for the Season — the Winter season, the Christmas season. And for something a little different this year, I have added an audio of me reading my thoughts and musings. Try it out below.

I hope this season holds something special for you. 🤍

“They were tangled one upon the other, indistinguishable, so much so, ideas like beginning and ending made little sense.”

— Patrick Greenwell, Spills, 2025

It was so close to Winter, with trees mostly bare and morning frost common. And warm days were becoming rare and cooled early. Pumpkins were still laid about, conspicuous but comforting. It must have been their color, so intense, in a landscape that was rapidly browning.

It was so close to Winter, but not quite, and I awoke from yet another flying dream. I have them often, but these days they seem more frequent. And there’s nothing angelic or avian about them, for no wings are involved, just me flying around under my own power. This time though, in the dream, I consciously decided to analyze the process. How exactly was I was able to fly?

Initially, it felt a lot like swimming underwater. Of course, the arms were vital in controlling lift and forward motion, but also a lightness in the chest and abdomen was necessary. However, it was not a matter of holding one’s breath, but more an awareness that one needed to maintain, in order to stay aloft. It was simply a natural means of locomotion. And I seemed to spend a lot of time at the tops of trees.

So, with all this fresh in my mind, as soon as my feet hit the floor, I thought I should fly straight up to the ceiling. Something simple at first. I mean, I knew how. I had analyzed the mechanics. I was completely confident. But I must have done something wrong, because I couldn’t.

Still, it was so close to Winter, and this time of year awakens so much in us. It’s a liminal space — this transition between seasons. It’s a hesitation needing to be pondered. It’s the time of year when the seen and the unseen are closest. It’s the time when spirit and corporeal remember. It’s a time when the landscape and our hearts are bared, once more.

We celebrate it, and rightly so. Most cultures at this time of year, call for a renewal of faith and hope. A suspension of disbelief. Perhaps my flying dreams are nothing more than that, an individual testimony to faith and hope. A stubborn belief in what may be possible. In my dreams, my flying seems normal, nothing miraculous. But isn't it in normalcy where we find most miracles? All of our stories and myths tell us as much. We are surrounded by the miraculous. Our very existence is proof enough.

As far as flying, that’s what dreams are for, but maybe I will try again later today, outside, where there’s more room. I probably just need a running start.

Merry Christmas and a Joyous Season to all,

❄️

Love, Patrick Spirit 2023