Music in the Soul (Haibun)

December 21^st – the shortest day of the year – was almost two months ago. March 20^th – spring – is a month away. So why does February feel hopelessly dark, cold, and wet? Why can’t I enjoy the never-ending supply of fresh wet snow and brisk afternoons?

shoveling driveway — /
rumbling snow truck approaches — /
please don’t plow me in //

Why gripe about the cold? If I’m cold I can add layers of clothing. Simple. July and August in southern Pennsylvania (Peeay to the locals) are not so simple.  They are unbearably hot and humid – and you can only remove so much of your clothing. [The neighbors would prefer that you didn't remove even that much.]   But, oh! The mosquitoes in Peeay? They love your bare skin.

Spring isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, either.  Foot upon foot of snow has fallen this winter, and when it melts we will be drowning in mud.  We’ll step in our hopefully-soon-to-be lawns and lose our boots in the mud. We’ll have mud up to our armpits. We’ll have a blizzard of mud. Oh yes.  Spring is mud.

Endless confinement /
leads to dreams of spring gardens — /
the snow grows deeper /

Winter?  [Grumble.]

Spring? [Meh.]

Summer? [Yuck.]

What’s left?  Oh yes – autumn. Surely autumn is the perfect season, is it not?  Well, no, not really. Autumn always promises forests of maples with cardinal leaves. It promises birches with leaves like shivering goldfinches. Yet every year we receive a torrential rain that brings down every leaf before it can be enjoyed.  We are buried in sticky, wet leaves that need to be scraped out of the yard. And mold.  Lots of mold.  Can’t forget the mold – and the ragweed – and all the other allergens.

Autumn? [Sneeze.]

always grumbling — /
never happy with nature — /
as if I’m perfect /

An inmate of my own house, I pace and think.  I realize that water is the unifying factor in all of the seasons. Water. Life. Whether the water freezes and blows into biting crystals, melts and soaks into my shoes, breeds mosquitoes, or brings down the leaves, nature surrounds me with water. I am so fortunate.  I don’t feel fortunate – but I am. And I am ashamed to have been so ignorant.

winter reflection — /
painful realizations /
bred in dark isolation //

It is time to walk – to make a pilgrimage (of sorts) into my neighborhood. There is no specific destination – only a journey waiting to be taken. I add layer upon layer – shirts and thermals and coats. I add hats and gloves and boots.

And I choose to add a song to my heart. It’s not so difficult, really. There is magic in the wind-blown powder that covers the neighbor’s sidewalk. There is music in the faint breathy whisper made by millions of ice crystals dancing on concrete. There is joy in the way ice reflects street lights and moonlight.

There is healing in water in all of its forms. I will sing.

shimmering winter /
sings a quiet melody — /
ice is the refrain //

My camera falls short when it comes to recording the beauty of street lights in ice.

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This post is written for Carpe Diem #401 and for the Weekly Līgo Haibun Challenge.

In post #401, Kristjaan told us about the Medicine Buddha, who helps ease suffering due to physical and inner illness (from attachment, hatred, and ignorance). The Medicine Buddha’s mantra is recited 108 times over a glass of water – causing the water to be blessed – then the patient drinks the water. This is done daily until the patient is cured.

We were allowed to write a haiku, senryū, tanka, kyoka or haibun for this episode. As such, I chose to write a haibun so as to participate in the weekly Līgo Haibun challenge. For my haibun, I selected the following quotation offered by Managua and Nightlake:  “Music in the soul can be heard by the universe” (Lao Tzu).

For the record, I’m not normally this cranky and hard-to-please when it comes to the seasons – I’ve just been trying to remind myself that winter isn’t so bad, we’re being blessed with all this snow (especially when one considers the many regions in long-term drought), and the other seasons have their problems too. In other words – stop griping and enjoy today!

Wind-blown snow on neighbor’s sidewalk.

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All of my snow images lately – including these – have been from daily neighborhood walks.

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