The harmony of contrast

Winter is well and truly here. The cold days have arrived. The world takes a little longer to wake up in the morning, and night falls early. Leaving the warm nest that is my bed is quite the challenge. The days are shorter, the winds are icier and I welcome those occasional rays of warmth and sunshine with a little more friendliness than usual.

Around this time of year I’m almost always wearing woolly socks, trackies and either a thermal top or a beanie. As I go about my day, these simple comforts remain with me, like tiny reminders of home, protecting me from the bite of a cold floor or the chill of the air. These small things remind me that I’m fragile and at the same time, that I am resourceful and equipped to meet what lies ahead.

On the days I spend in Torquay, I’ve been swimming or surfing every day. I don’t have a winter wetsuit at the moment and amidst my current financial priorities, it’ll have to wait at least another month. Surfing in the warmer seasons is a practice in conserving energy and maximising fun, but these days, I have to keep moving to generate enough heat to stay in the water. It’s an interesting mental space to occupy, and somewhat odd that being cold has become part of one of my favourite daily rituals.

I could never quite get into the routine of ‘cold exposure’ for the sake of it. I tried ice-baths and cold showers intermittently, but it all felt a little forced – perhaps lacking in context, like running on a treadmill or stationary bike when there’s an entire world to see outside. I understand that for some people, stationary bikes and treadmills are a practical choice, but personally I feel most connected to my physical practice when it adapts itself to my environment.

I’ve learnt that it’s important to be exposed to the outside world. It’s important to face the unpredictable and uncomfortable regularly. It’s important we don’t forget how satisfying it is to struggle and then thrive in an unpredictable situation. It’s important we don’t forget that what is dark uncomfortable is often also full of incredible joy, lightness and meaning. Nature teaches us about ourselves and shows us the harmony in contrast. 

This isn’t some motivational speech about callusing the mind. If I shiver in the ocean and lose the feeling in my fingers and toes; if my arms burn and grow heavy from paddling; if I respectfully dance with the danger of the submerged reef or dive under a rolling wall of white-water, it isn’t to be tough or to be daring. I’m there because I am so helplessly in love, and I couldn’t bear to be more comfortable at the expense of feeling nature’s raw beauty and equanimity. I feel as though I am softening to the elements, if anything.

Mother nature is impartial and un-reactive towards my thoughts, senses and emotions. Her vastness allows space for all of me. In this space, I am free to lose myself in the music of my own being, with no thought of beginning and end. There is no pressure here. I am free to expand into environment and forget that there was ever separateness between skin and world. I want to feel myself as she is. I offer my being to her being, while I can, until I must return from our harmony to our contrast, as is the way of things.

So in winter, I allow myself to get cold. Like anyone else, I reach my expiry and eventually reach for comfort - but not before I allow the challenge to penetrate my armour and feed my spirit. I do this because I am hooked on the kind of pleasure that emanates from sensitivity rather than numbness. And so when I cradle a warm cup of tea or steaming bowl of food in my hands, my heart is filled with a sense of meaning and purpose. I know I could never feel such depth of warmth and gratitude without having given a little of myself to the winter.

My friend, if you can manage it, offer your love to what is cold, dark and challenging. I won’t tell you what will happen if you do, because that would ruin the magic. All I will say is that the love you feel in your life is a reflection of the love you offer life itself.