“We grow great by dreams. All big men are dreamers. They see things in the soft haze of a spring day or in the red fire of a long winter's evening. Some of us let these dreams die, but others nourish and protect them; nurse them through bad days till they bring them to the sunshine and light which comes always to those who sincerely hope that their dreams will come true.”
~ Woodrow Wilson
~ Woodrow Wilson
The holidays have come and gone; the winter solstice, the longest night of the year, has as well. These darkest, coldest nights of the year are the deepest off of my off-season, and, frankly, I’ve been feeling “off.”
Actually, my initial ideas for this post only made that “off” feeling worse. I had planned to write a post similar to the one I wrote last year around this time. Reviewing the last year and evaluating how I’d done on my resolutions was discouraging. Of the specific goals I set, I accomplished only one: beginning yoga. I was making progress on several others (daily practice, sequences, and turns) at the beginning of the year…but by early spring a nagging shoulder injury could no longer be ignored. By that time, my shoulders fatigued from even just a few minutes of free-hand balance. I spent spring through early autumn in physical therapy and required rest—right during the time of year I enjoy the most training and playing. The forced inactivity was incredibly enervating when I wanted so badly to be out and doing. Healing did happen, slowly…and when I was just about physically ready for more active balancing, the year was wrapping up, the weather had turned cold, and my life was over-scheduled with other activities.
Then came December, off-season even for cross training, the joys and stresses of the holiday bustle, snowstorms and short days …and the dreaded resolution evaluation time. For weeks, in the darkest evenings of the year, I struggled to write, trying to sort through feelings of exhaustion, disappointment, dissatisfaction, impatience; trying to decide how to move forward, feeling stuck. For the first time since I began my blog, I went for more than a month without posting. I was so pent-up frustrated that, in the privacy of my car on a dark empty road one night, I attempted to scream my exasperation. The attempt was not particularly successful: apparently years of well-behaved quiet have left me incapable of more than hoarse shouts and tight squeaks—and only strangled silence when I tried for a real scream. At least the choked laughter over my screamlessness acted as an alternative emotional release.
In the midst of my frustration, I remembered the quote by Woodrow Wilson I had filed away months earlier and went back to reread it. With its vivid imagery of seasons and light and dark, the quote resonated: I feel like I’m nursing my dreams through the dark and cold of winter. While I’m longing for an ambitious and physically demanding balance regime, the quote reminded me that hard days are part of the journey, and that I’m in good company: if my international relations and European politics courses taught me anything, it was that Woodrow was my kind of guy.1
The quote by Woodrow Wilson wasn’t the only bit of wisdom I collected earlier in the year, which, though I didn't know it at the time, prepared me for this post and my own turning point. My yoga instructor, Emily, back in autumn, posted on her blog “You’re Right Where You Need to Be.” As I contemplated for this post the themes of light and dark, winter evenings and hard days, I was reminded of it.
As I considered the two quotes by two very different role models, slowly my attitude shifted; I gave myself permission to rest, to dream in the dark and firelight of long winter evenings. After being mired in a bit of a dark funk, I started focusing on the counterpoints of light—the good things in the past year and the good things to come, the radiant hopes and bright memories that even a little winter weather and discouragement can’t take the luster off of.
While I wasn’t able to stick to a rigorous training regime, and in spite of being in recovery, I did accomplish some big things that weren’t on my resolutions list: I had a wonderful season of waterlining with friends, full of warm sunshine, frigid clear water, and lots and lots of laughter. I learned to celebrate the absurdity of awkward learning moments, shared something I love with friends and strangers, and had the opportunity to practice tricks, mounts, and catches with water to break my fall.
The waterline prepped me, far beyond what I had anticipated, for a dream trip to the Czech Republic. There, on my very first try ever, I successfully walked the full length of a short highline. Not only did I walk a highline, I walked a longline, drove my first rental car (in a foreign country no less!), rubbed shoulders with experienced and professional slackliners, and made new friends.
Cross-training sports were another highlight: in the spring I took my first yoga class and in the summer I took up ballet again. For autumn semester I was ambitious and did both. Yes, during this “off-season,” I was doing yoga and ballet once, twice and even sometimes three times a week each. Both taught me a lot about body alignment and posture that have helped with my recovery and have developed muscles that will carry me well on line and wire.
Even though it was frustrating at the time, the December off-off-season, with even my yoga and ballet classes on holiday, was a much needed break. It forced me to do some soul searching and inspired me to keep dreaming even when things aren’t working out like I’d planned.
Now in January, even though the cold and dark will continue a while longer, I’m looking forward to the remaining restful long winter evenings and off-season cross-training. Last week I resumed ballet, and next week I’ll resume yoga. It’s a schedule that will keep me busy, make me stronger, and help me develop focus and artistry. For true downtime, I also added to my reading pile some new books to feed my dreams. The inside of each book is marked:
My reading will have the added ambiance of a gorgeous, unique, book-shaped lamp. It was a splurge “solstice” gift to myself. An added light seemed especially fitting for dark December and January nights.
Beyond yoga, ballet, and fireside reading, I don’t have any resolutions to share. I have some ideas, some ambitions, but I think I’m going to wait and see where I’m at in spring before I make any concrete or arbitrary commitments. I’m going to try to take a break, to ease up so I don't overwhelm myself with my own ambitions. For now I’ll to relax and enjoy the dark and the snowy cold, to dream and hope and rest. And as I do, I will be getting ready for that promised sunshine and light that "comes always to those who sincerely hope that their dreams will come true.”
Happy winter dreaming to you all.
Actually, my initial ideas for this post only made that “off” feeling worse. I had planned to write a post similar to the one I wrote last year around this time. Reviewing the last year and evaluating how I’d done on my resolutions was discouraging. Of the specific goals I set, I accomplished only one: beginning yoga. I was making progress on several others (daily practice, sequences, and turns) at the beginning of the year…but by early spring a nagging shoulder injury could no longer be ignored. By that time, my shoulders fatigued from even just a few minutes of free-hand balance. I spent spring through early autumn in physical therapy and required rest—right during the time of year I enjoy the most training and playing. The forced inactivity was incredibly enervating when I wanted so badly to be out and doing. Healing did happen, slowly…and when I was just about physically ready for more active balancing, the year was wrapping up, the weather had turned cold, and my life was over-scheduled with other activities.
In the midst of my frustration, I remembered the quote by Woodrow Wilson I had filed away months earlier and went back to reread it. With its vivid imagery of seasons and light and dark, the quote resonated: I feel like I’m nursing my dreams through the dark and cold of winter. While I’m longing for an ambitious and physically demanding balance regime, the quote reminded me that hard days are part of the journey, and that I’m in good company: if my international relations and European politics courses taught me anything, it was that Woodrow was my kind of guy.1
The quote by Woodrow Wilson wasn’t the only bit of wisdom I collected earlier in the year, which, though I didn't know it at the time, prepared me for this post and my own turning point. My yoga instructor, Emily, back in autumn, posted on her blog “You’re Right Where You Need to Be.” As I contemplated for this post the themes of light and dark, winter evenings and hard days, I was reminded of it.
There will be moments when you can’t stand the skin you’re in.The post was a good reminder not just to endure, but to appreciate the dark. Lights shine brighter against shadowed backgrounds, the contrasts provide emphasis. It isn’t just that the good—the light—counteracts the bad, but that sometimes we even need the dark, just as a highwire walker needs gravity pulling him down in order to stay up on the wire.
Your life may spread before you like a giant, starless sky…vast, dark and empty.
You will want to expand; explode, or implode…anything other than this.
… …. …
My challenge for you, when you encounters these moments, is to stay.
Just stay.
Sit in the dark for a while.
Maybe even accept it.
… … …
We sink into the dark so we can experience the exquisite return of light.
Your job is to allow the experience of it; whatever it may be.
As I considered the two quotes by two very different role models, slowly my attitude shifted; I gave myself permission to rest, to dream in the dark and firelight of long winter evenings. After being mired in a bit of a dark funk, I started focusing on the counterpoints of light—the good things in the past year and the good things to come, the radiant hopes and bright memories that even a little winter weather and discouragement can’t take the luster off of.
While I wasn’t able to stick to a rigorous training regime, and in spite of being in recovery, I did accomplish some big things that weren’t on my resolutions list: I had a wonderful season of waterlining with friends, full of warm sunshine, frigid clear water, and lots and lots of laughter. I learned to celebrate the absurdity of awkward learning moments, shared something I love with friends and strangers, and had the opportunity to practice tricks, mounts, and catches with water to break my fall.
The waterline prepped me, far beyond what I had anticipated, for a dream trip to the Czech Republic. There, on my very first try ever, I successfully walked the full length of a short highline. Not only did I walk a highline, I walked a longline, drove my first rental car (in a foreign country no less!), rubbed shoulders with experienced and professional slackliners, and made new friends.
Cross-training sports were another highlight: in the spring I took my first yoga class and in the summer I took up ballet again. For autumn semester I was ambitious and did both. Yes, during this “off-season,” I was doing yoga and ballet once, twice and even sometimes three times a week each. Both taught me a lot about body alignment and posture that have helped with my recovery and have developed muscles that will carry me well on line and wire.
Even though it was frustrating at the time, the December off-off-season, with even my yoga and ballet classes on holiday, was a much needed break. It forced me to do some soul searching and inspired me to keep dreaming even when things aren’t working out like I’d planned.
Now in January, even though the cold and dark will continue a while longer, I’m looking forward to the remaining restful long winter evenings and off-season cross-training. Last week I resumed ballet, and next week I’ll resume yoga. It’s a schedule that will keep me busy, make me stronger, and help me develop focus and artistry. For true downtime, I also added to my reading pile some new books to feed my dreams. The inside of each book is marked:
My reading will have the added ambiance of a gorgeous, unique, book-shaped lamp. It was a splurge “solstice” gift to myself. An added light seemed especially fitting for dark December and January nights.
Beyond yoga, ballet, and fireside reading, I don’t have any resolutions to share. I have some ideas, some ambitions, but I think I’m going to wait and see where I’m at in spring before I make any concrete or arbitrary commitments. I’m going to try to take a break, to ease up so I don't overwhelm myself with my own ambitions. For now I’ll to relax and enjoy the dark and the snowy cold, to dream and hope and rest. And as I do, I will be getting ready for that promised sunshine and light that "comes always to those who sincerely hope that their dreams will come true.”
Happy winter dreaming to you all.
1 Not only was he a statesman who valued international cooperation, he was an academic and scholar. While still a professor, he became friends with Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk, also a professor. Masaryk would become his native country's first president in part due to their friendship, which contributed to the creation of Czechoslovakia as an independent country after WWI brought about the dissolution of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
