“The world isn’t a place to be defined, especially in winter. The cold gives you a name. You are Old.”
With a blink of an eye, time changes like an arrow flying through the sky. No matter who you are or what kind of vitamins you eat or what kind of lotion you buy, time is the winner in the game of age. I lived a pretty hard life and never slowed down once. I get bored easily if it’s not inspiring or motivating. I guess you might say I burn on both ends – hot as hell at times – simmering at others and sometimes just plain ole’ mentally burnt to a crisp.
When they made me, they made a hyper kid that doesn’t sit still…
As winter begins to nestle into the wild valley of Taos and the sweet scent of pinon wood smoke wafts through the valley.
the touch of snow on the peaks is clearly seen.
Winter in Taos does give you a sense of admirable scrutiny. You wake up slower, you move a bit like the light from a lantern, your hazy gaze lasts a bit longer and the sunrise isn’t as powerful as it was when the late summer sun was fighting its waning flight.
The handsome new white and blue corn girl friends are smiling, flirting on their drying racks, and the newly harvested beans are also laughing as they receive the heat of the distant sun in their little shell skins. What’s there not to love when hard work looks and feels like a kiss from the corn maidens?
It’s time to settle the bones,the mind and the heart and for me it starts with handy work.
When the long nights settle in, I start to reflect on design and dust off the ole sewing machine and dig out the latigo and deer and elk skins. Within the slight down time, I actually have a bit of inspiration to work on some sewing maybe design a new amulet, work on moccasin orders.
within the quite-ness of my handwork i began to wonder off, day dream of things to come and the outcomes of things unexpected:
As the smell of beans, Bear chicharon and Chico’s (partched corn) cook;
The first random thought;
I think this season I will do more winter camping in the high country, hunt some deer or elk and get the horses on the old trails. Nothing more beautiful than riding down the mountain side singing round dance songs and looking at the town lights in their little sparkling beauty. I figure you are only as strong as your suffering, ice cold on the saddle, fingers frozen, mountain air so cold it pushes your breath down, pant legs frozen from fresh blood. However, that is when the songs come into your soul, squeeky saddle rhythm the unbending cold sound of snow crunching with every step. That’s when the thoughts of loved ones are pure and the unbending, unnecessary thoughts crack away in the ice. These are the times when culture comes alive in the soul.
I wake up differently now. I enjoy my age now because I finally feel like my wild child mind has caught up to my unstable heart and unforgiving body. It’s only in the winter time that I contemplate the aging process. My aches are not as many, but there are more than I would care to talk about. I still have all my teeth (three) and my eye sight isn’t as vivid to the up front views. Either my arms are getting shorter or my eyes are losing their wonderment too close up… heehee, I don’t mind. I have kicked this life in the ass, and it has done the same to me. It was a good fight, and some of you witnessed it.
I stumble around like a big ole mama brown bear. I walk in to the kitchen and start the Vita-mix for the morning juicing. Lately, I have been working on some recipes, making some middle eastern style ala Mirabal lunches for the girls. Sometimes it’s Mexican style food, sometimes it’s traditional pueblo style soups other times it’s japanese sushi. Everywhere I have been I will find some spice that can enhance their taste buds to the world, other times it’s a standard turkey sandwich.
I wonder out of the day dream thoughts look at my sewing, smell the Beans simmering on the stove, its amazing how even the taste of food is different in the crisp quicking of the changing season.
I feel we chose these elements of winter darkness of the soul so that we can understand the gift – our own light.
We will lose faith many times when life has ripped us apart more times than a bad wreck, as the people you loved stare in disbelief yet never fight with you. However,
Life keeps going and seasons keep going things will go on no matter what I do, and I’m not in charge of anything, or any outcome…
The winter brings a name. Yes…it also brings mama bear’s introspection. It brings, without shame, the moments of clarity.
If you’re lucky, and if you were strong enough, patient enough to understand what you prepared for in the summer and fall harvest, and hopefully it will carry you through the deep introspective mind of winter.
In our hybernation and all the warmth and beauty of the fatness of knowledge, your dreams of a better tomorrow will be the driving force, charging through the dream world out of a another icy wickedly cold winter leading us into another spring run off.
Stay Warm, especially in the heart. It’s time to sew moccasins…
MAMA BEAR MIRABAL…