For the Love of January ...

I'm noticing right now, how totally BUMMED I am that it is already February ... and it's made me think a bit. Why is it so much a downer for me? This isn't at all in jest, for this is what I do feel most sincerely, and with every fiber of my being. And so I've been pondering this for the whole month of January: why do I feel most at home and in-balance with the world around me in a month most others seem to dread?

I love the "feel" of December: I'm a total Advent junkie, hooked and NEVER looking for a "cure". I find myself only wishing December was twice as long as it is every year. Still, that doesn't say anything about January. As I thought and puzzled about my love of January, I noted to myself how odd it was because nothing happens in January, really. And I found the answer within that statement. Hercule Poirot loves to have the ever-factual and direct Captain Hastings about while he is solving crimes as Captain Hastings will always make the most obvious and seeming-less useless observation of something. Yet in that statement, some little fact pops up that stirs Poirot's famous little grey cells of brain-matter to connect other seemingly un-related dots. Voila, we learn something!

And so the understanding came from within that observation to myself that it's strange to love January (as I must do). The obvious following thought is this: nothing really happens during the month, so how could one "love" ... nothing? As with Poirot and his Hastings', right there in the obvious I found my answer. I realized that I love the peaceful-ness of January, the pause in the year, when it seems every thing "stops". Nothing's growing, we stay in-doors and hunker down of an evening by the fire with a good book, some music, a movie or so on the television/dvd player.
Me, the person who always wanted to be out and about when younger ... wants little more than a quiet evening at home, a fire, and a few loved ones close by. What a change from the "Neil" of thirty years ago!

By the end of February buds and shoots and the first bulb-flowers are appearing, and the pace gets dizzyingly faster week by week. LIFE just gets very busy, hecticity abounds, and off we go for another roller-coaster ride through the year. I watch others as they THRILL to this, the "coming-alive" of the world around us, as I've heard it described, and I note how different I am. How different I am from even what *I* used to be.

I now love the pause, the contemplative time, the inward-ness of January. I love the storms outside and the fire inside, the sense of snugging down to let the world go by. To think unfettered by the need to "do" whatever it is that needs done today. To feel, to sense, and to float in the pool of the Quiet of Now.
I do get my month of that each year, but it's never enough. And as I get older, I find I want that month to be longer.
Robert Neil Haugen,
1 February, 2010