The holidays are over, family and friends are once again miles away, suitcases are still not fully unpacked, work has just started up again, and it is still cold— except now the snow is no longer associated with nostalgia and Christmas tunes but rather it’s just another obstacle on the way to work. I call this the mid-winter lull. It can be a very mundane and melancholic season, yet it is also the start to a new year.
As I pull myself out of bed in the cold, dark morning, I am reminded of this poem. A poem written by the English poet David Whyte awakening us to the glory that is singing around us, even in the ordinary. A reawakening to the divine comfort and company that are in simple experiences. I don’t want the small miracles that happen everyday to be lost on me— and especially not during a brand new year and season as melancholic as it may feel right now.
Everything is Waiting for You
By David Whyte
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice. You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.