Northern Minnesota's air temperatures this morning ranged from -20 to -40 degrees F. To get the wind chill temperature, add (or subtract, if you will) another ten to twenty degrees. At about 6:30 a.m., I took some trash out to the curb for today's pick-up, and was reminded how, apart from the almost instant frostbite, these temperatures are a difficult challenge for your lungs. I mean, you take a deep breath, and throughout your system an alarm seems to go off saying, "where's the oxygen?"
Thirty years ago, I had to work no matter what the weather. When my car didn't start, I'd stand like an ice sculpture waiting for the bus, arriving at the restaurant in tears, and blinded by the half inch of solid ice on my glasses. My first winter out here, I frostbit my feet, not understanding that I needed boots large enough for space around my toes. And having no health insurance, I did not seek treatment for it. In the intervening years, my feet have healed enough to function with the right boots, but in this off-the-scale frigid weather, even indoors they feel strange, like they know I am "this close" to doing it again. I am privileged to be retired enough not to have to go outside, but the reality is that I both love and fear life in this climate. Around here, you can't even pretend that humanity is in charge. We are here at Nature's sufferance, and it is life that, for over half of each year, is on the cutting edge of being unworkable.
The price I pay for choosing "low-income retirement/time to write and be a contemplative" is housing insecurity, which is probably more frightening here than almost anywhere in the U.S. But it is as broad as it is long...this winter, with a roof over my head, I have been in more of a constant state of gratitude than I have ever been before. Every time I walk by a warm radiator, or have warm water for a shower or to do dishes, or even when I just look at the outside thermometer, I say, "Thank you Goddess." And I mean it.
There was a great example on the news this morning of what I was talking about yesterday, our tendency to fight negative conditions, which I believe leads to the growth of those conditions. Cities, states, the federal government, even the White House, are geared up to "fight gun violence". Oh, dear people, no. Sometimes, I feel like my motto has become "res ipsa loquitur". The thing does speak for itself, doesn't it? I mean, when your system encourages weapons manufacturers to sell more weapons; when your movie, television, game and publishing industries glorify violence; when the belief is in place that fighting is the only way to achieve "victory", how on earth could fighting violence ever diminish violence? If I'm proved wrong, I will eat my proverbial hat. But until then, my work for the day is accessing (and trying to stay in) a place of harmony, alignment, and peace. And moment-by-moment gratitude that today I am sheltered.
