RCG-I Seasonal Salon Winter Solstice 2003


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Winter Solstice 2003 Salon

Mandala Meditation

Sankt Snoä

Santes Crwydrwyr

Santo Dança

Ste Unwanted Clouding

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picture of sankt snoa

Sankt Snoä—Swedish Saint of Snow

Solitude • Slumber • Simplicity

Herstory

It’s winter, and the ground is covered in a blanket of thick white snow. It frosts the trees’ bare branches, and the woods seem silent, every sound muffled by the fresh cover of the season’s first snowfall.

Gentle flurries fall frozen from the clouds, and as they journey toward the Earth’s surface they grow, fusing with other snow crystals before landing as six-pointed stars. Their shapes may remain simple or become increasingly complex as they merge during flight. As they descend, the snow crystals gather harmful matter to them, cleansing pollution from the sky.

On a sunny day after the storm, we walk out into the winter world only to be blinded by the glare of light that surrounds us. The snow’s white cloak becomes the sun’s wintry dance partner, reflecting its energy, returning its diminished light back to it. As we enter solar winter, the time between November and February when we receive the least daylight each year, the snow becomes the day’s radiance, luminous in the cold nights. About a month after the winter solstice we enter the coldest period of the year, as domes of frigid air built up over Siberia, Alaska, northern Canada, and Greenland are kicked from their nest and blown southward across the hemisphere.

As the weather warms, snowmelt flows down the mountains and into the valleys where it is most needed. It powers the great rivers of the American West—the Colorado, the Rio Grande, the Columbia, and the Missouri. Across the globe snow provides one-third of the water required for irrigation when the farmers plants crops. We depend on its icy beauty to bring new growth with the spring.


Meditation & Participation

Think about your needs during this season of snow. Do you require a warm place to slumber while the winds tap impatiently outside your burrow? Winter is a time when animals and plants hibernate in solitude in their caves or beneath the ground, insulated by the snow until the spring.

Use this time of year to slow down and pay attention to the intricate beauty of the snowflakes, the patterns of the frost on your windowpane. Curl up in your favorite corner and let the quiet overtake you until you are heavy with the stillness. Read books you haven’t had time to read all year, write in your journal, clear your mind of busy tasks.

Sankt Snoä prances among the falling flakes, urging us to come outside. She asks us to remember to use this snow time not only for sitting meditation, but to get up and walk in its wonders. Listen to the crunching of your feet as you make your way in this white world. All cares have been swept away in the winter storm, the palette of every living creature gleams against its unpainted canvas. The snow breathes, and if we listen closely we can hear its whispered sighs.

Breath deeply as you walk, and notice how clear your mind and lungs feel, invigorated by the frosty air. This wonderland is a refuge of simplicity, of nothing but the present moment, your tingling nose and ruddy cheeks, the deer, the birds, and the trees. Winter is like the soul without the body, and snow is the soul’s protective shroud, protecting it as you move into deep contemplation.

What distractions would you remove from your life in order to enjoy this wintry simplicity? November is a good time to take stock as the end of the year approaches. Are there objects or people that keep you from enjoying the peace of the snow? Are there unresolved matters? Is there an emotional turmoil that distracts you from its pristine beauty? December, January, and February is the time to face the clutter and the chaos. To become pure and clean like the snow, and then gather energy and resources for the new ideas and projects that spring invites.

Study the details of your life as you would the ferns of frost on the window pane’s glass as we enter wintertime, remove that which no longer works, even if only temporarily. Give yourself the gift of snowy solitude.


Artwork by Sudie Rakusin, text by Anna Styers-Barnett
Copyright by the Artist & Author ~ All rights reserved