Winter Light & Quiet Mornings
A study in the art of slowing down, one cold morning at a time
Hello my friend,
How are you today? Take a moment to breathe deeply and simply be your beautiful self.
How is your body feeling in this very moment? Can you sense any tension? Is it whispering about a particular need?
And how about your heart? What does she want to create right now? Are any bubbles of joy - or maybe sadness or grief - ready to emerge?
As we approach the end of November and step into the first days of winter, I feel myself drawn toward deeper introspection and more alone-time. It’s as if I can actually sense the contrast between the upcoming, familiar pre-Christmas stress and Nature’s own slowing down - her invitation to calm and contemplation (both on the outside wonders and on the inside ones).
This contrast almost aches inside me, and my instinctive response is to retreat into my “cave” and into my heart. To dream of slow. To plan and craft a December that feels gentle, spacious, and wonder-filled.
This all sounds so lovely on paper - and so very hard to accomplish in real life.
Or at least, in my real life.
And please indulge me while I explain how I find myself daily stretched thin, like butter scraped over a too-large piece of bread - running between an 8–5 corporate job, my household, my girls and my husband, and - one must not forget - my soul-nourishing hobbies: words and sewing.
But I’ve found that gratitude is a powerful ally, and the truth is: I genuinely enjoy my life - so rest assured, this isn’t a post about complaining. I simply felt that sharing this small piece of my reality might build deeper trust between us, and let you know that I, too, am navigating the same full, imperfect, beautifully chaotic days as so many of you.
And that it’s from the midst of this chaos that I’m slowly trying to build a slower life - a simpler, more joyful one.
So perhaps we can navigate these times together.
I’ve heard many people saying that time has changed. That the days are shorter than they used to be. But my own perception is that the days are quite of the same length they used to be when I was little- but because I try to squeeze so many more activities and tasks within the same amount of time, I get the feeling that the day is not enough. That „someone” has stolen a part of it and made it shorter. A universal conspiracy aimed to keep me trapped in my mouse- wheel, ever running, never stopping.
It is so easy to get trapped in the „it’s not my fault” thing.
No responsibility to change. So much easier to just complain about external factors than doing the uncomfortable self-inquiry and change.
So much easier, also totally not effective.
~~~
Being so ineffective, I suggest let’s step outside of it- and get one tiny step closer to our power and accountability. In a soft and very, very gentle way. Just the way I like it, soft & slow, lovingly & kindly, in the correct direction.
Like a river, ever flowing in the correct direction.
So how can we slow down, in this particular season? The season of rush and excitement, of gifts-buying and house-cleaning, of cooking and visiting and so many, many more activities, all requiring our time and attention?
Well, my love, we will make art together. The art of slowing down.
You, me, each of us – we are all the artist of our lives.
And as the artists we are, we can create Magic!
Winter Light & Quiet Mornings
Take a moment and look outside your window.
What do you see?
How is the light?
What are the colors?
How are the shadows, how is the sky looking right now?
How do you feel while contemplating this particular scenery?
Pause for a moment and feel. Try to immerse yourself in this surrounding, in this light (no matter how dim or hibernal it may be). Can you describe the beauty of the light? Its softness? Its nuances? What words would you use?
I do hope you took some time (even just a few moments) to make this exercise.
For if you did ~ this was art-making. This was slowing down.
We don’t have to carve large amounts of time (of course, if we could, it would be fantastic and I encourage you to do it as often as you can).
Slowing down is, first of all, a state of mind. And a state of feeling. A conscious decision to make micro-brakes to just be. Contemplate. Breathe. See the beauty around us.
As the winter season arrives, I made a promise to myself.
To gift myself Winter Light and Quiet Mornings.
A sort of Advent calendar type of thing, but with slowing down moments.
Each morning.
Like a ritual.
Like a prayer.
To become a student – and to study the art of slowing down, one cold morning at a time.
When I think of winter light, I don’t mean the fairy lights (although I love, love them and the feeling they trigger in me). I’ve found that I really enjoy them in the evening, as the light fades and the darkness envelops everything in soft magic.
When I think of winter light, I envision the natural light slowly being born in the morning -the pale, gentle illumination that begins to fill the sky, slowly, so slowly, so softly. Then the light grows just a little brighter, almost imperceptibly, and the surroundings become just a little more visible. Still half-asleep, yet already a promise of a new beginning. A promise that sparks a glimmer of hope inside me.
I treat this glimmer of hope very gently. I’ve found that my glimmers need love, time, and softness in order to grow stronger - so they’re not crushed under the heavy responsibilities - and often the dreads - of the outside world.
I treat this very moment with silence and with wonder - allowing myself to be dazzled by simply sitting next to a lit candle with my favorite tea and watching the slow and sacred birthing of Winter Light.
Thoughts come and go. I am by no means a master of meditation, so my mind is constantly trying to take control and explain this and that to me.
But I applaud myself every time I realize my mind has started to rumble again - and I softly send her back to follow my breath.
Softly.
Slowly.
I breathe.
I look outside the window.
I sip my tea.
And I feel how it feels to be me.
Just for these moments, no pressure. No rush.
Just for these moments, I just breathe and bathe in presence.
I can hear my heart beatting in my ears.
I can hear my lungs inhaling and exhaling.
I can sense the presence of the trees and the roses outside my window.
And it is a most wonderful way to start my (often hectic) day.
My dear friend,
I am so proud of myself. I promised that I would write this piece in the soft and slow way I am so nourished by - like a gift both to me and to you - and I did.
I hope you can feel the peace and calm I wished to invoke.
I hope you found my words useful - or, at least, comforting in whatever way you needed right now.
I hope you are marveled by the light surrounding you in this precious moment.
And that you’ve already decided to gift yourself some Quiet Mornings this winter.
I would absolutely love to hear from you.
Do you want to be colleagues? And study together the art of slowing down?
(say Yeees, pleeeeaseee...)
Whatever you chose for your everyday, make sure it nourishes your soul!
Sending a soft & fluffy hug,
and weaving Shadow & Silk,
dark and light,
soft and slow,
Loriana 🖤🤍
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