01 . 01 . 10 .
The day and the New Year dawned like most winter days, exceptionally late. I was awake before 6 a.m. and while it was extremely light outside, due to the full, blue moon and the luminosity of the dense snow field outside my bedroom window, the actual sunrise was more than an hour away. And though the day, sunny with clear skies, proved beautiful, it was bitterly cold. Giving all the more credence to the information I have gathered about the month of January; that it is the very definition of cold.
I find this is the time of the year when the body, and soul, crave moisture. At the mere sight of a hat my hair turns into static frizz. My whole body burns and itches after every shower. Lips and hands and face are uncomfortably chapped and the only source of relief is a near continuous application of balm and lotion and cream. Everything in me literally and figuratively chaffs at the cold, the isolation, the dwindling daylight hours. I long for green grass and new life stirring beneath the ice and snow. But more than that, I long for soothing.
The Native Americans refered to the full moon that appears this month, on the 30th to be exact, as the Wolf Moon. Deep snow and near fatal temperatures put an end to easy hunting so the wolf packs of old would migrate closer to the Indian camps and make their frustration known with sessions of eerie, forlorn howling. And maybe the primal restlessness that haunted them translates to the human species, as well. Maybe that’s why I long for soothing. Because in addition to sensory aggitation, something animalistic is stirred and on the prowl inside me.
I had the humidifier going all day today. And I made a moisturizing face mask out of avacado. I lit scented candles, drank strong, sweet tea and did a good deal of reading as E was napping and the sunny afternoon hours were stolen away by the frigid twilight. Soothing. All of it soothing. But still, there lingers this strange unease.
Perhaps if I howl……..?
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