Why am I hesitant to admit that I love winter? Is it because so many are so vocal in their hatred of it? Winter-bashing is a kind of national pastime here in the true-north-strong-and-free. Thus it's hard for those of us who love the season to feel free to admit to our passion for it. So I gamely go along with others and decry the cold and the snow, but that's not how I feel in my heart. Instead, I quietly love it, loving the invigorating cold and the serenity of the falling snow. Yes, I do have my moments of frustration with winter, like when my car won't start for the umpteenth time since November. But all I need to do is put on my snow-shoes and head out into the forest ASAP. Soon all is forgiven with winter.
One reason why I think we Canadians dislike winter is because we have no vocabulary for loving it. No way of conceptualizing affection for ice, snow, cold. The Danish - who know something about winter, too - have the lovely notion known as "hygge," which means, as I understand it, a feeling of coziness or comfort during the winter months, involving good food, good drink, good friends. It seems to be an opportunity to embrace winter, a season which dominates the year for northern nations and their people. Why don't we have "hygge" here?
One of the few Canadian expressions of a love of winter - or, perhaps, it's best to say that it's an expression of and a celebration of what winter can mean - is the short film "We Refuse to Be Cold," by Alexander Carson from 2011 (produced with the support of the National Film Board). Here's the link so that you can watch it, too: http://vimeo.com/25082970.
Perhaps the film's title can be read as a hygge-inspired rallying cry, one for both the winter-weary and the winter-adoring.
I should probably warn you, this is the blog of a mid-lifer. Last week I turned 40 and 40 is middle-aged, as far as I'm concerned. So some kind of a crisis may be looming for me, if I'm to believe the mythos. However, that aside, I figure it's a good age to be. The vitality of youth has not entirely disappeared (or so I like to think) and the wisdom of age is beginning to make its presence known (or so I like to think). Thus there is a kind of harmony, balance and strength to be had at 40 -- a harmony, balance and strength that wasn't there to be had at 30. And certainly not at 20. This is something to savour. And if a crisis should erupt, at 40 years of age one has that mental, emotional and spiritual resources to handle the situation -- or so I like to think.
One thing that I should make clear: I'm not a northerner by birth. I was born in southern Ontario and went north, like so many others, for work, for a change of scenery and to see what "the north" was all about. This means I have a different relationship to place - to this place. I suppose that my outsider status is keenly felt because I'm also a non-aboriginal living on a Cree reserve: my family and I live in Norway House Cree Nation, an 8-10 hour drive north of Winnipeg. However, looking at a place through a stranger's eyes is not so terrible, not so lonely -- it opens up the possibility of seeing things as fresh, new, unfamiliar. The presence of novelty - of seeing new sights/ sites - sharpens the senses, quickens the mind.
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That said, there's also something profoundly wonderful about seeing the same thing day after day. Seeing the same tree in the same yard, day in and day out, in all kinds of weather, with new leaves in spring and snow-covered in winter. Through familiarity you begin to see the nuances of small change - the way a shift of light will make the leaves glow, will make the shade under the tree deepen. And that's what I love about walking, walking the same streets, the same trails through different seasons, in different kinds of weather. This kind of walking becomes a kind of training, which the Buddhists might call practice: to mindfully see something as both familiar and new (as changed/ changing) all at once.
Another featured topic for this blog will be life in the north. I've lived in Canada's north - specifically in northern Manitoba and in Labrador - for about seven years now. The experience has changed me and changed the way I look at the world. More on this in the days, weeks, months to come.
With this blog, I hope to expand and explore the things that I do to make my living: reading, writing, teaching. And the thing I do to make me feel whole - walking. Rambling is just part of the process.
