The concept of THAW is pretty simple: what is hard or frozen softens or liquifies in the presence of warmth. When THAW = MELT one can explore myriad possibilities and implications – physically, mentally and emotionally.
When the thermometer rises, the winds blow and the rain pounds down in Northern New England, plans change abruptly to include flood warnings, power outages and just plain disappointment. As I write this, it is January 11 and there is, of course, the notion that this is simply our “January thaw” for this year. On the other hand, with all the horrific weather events that we’re (almost) getting used to, and the fact that this is, what, our 6th thaw this winter (?), is this alarming? At best, though it gives us pause. In spite of the ever-present threat of the possibility of damage or danger caused by irresistible forces of nature, there is relief from biting cold and an almost playful tease in the air. (60 degrees? Really?!)
Yes, our snow sports, and by extension, our winter recreational industries, take a hit. Alpine trails are at the mercy of lifts shut down on wind-hold, deadly dangerous ice and nearly as dangerous slush. Kids and young athletes wring their un-gloved hands in distress when they hear that their early races have been cancelled. Nordic ski areas suffer the melting of meticulously groomed tracks, ponds transition to off-limit, VAST trails reduce to dirt, and even wooded walks require a strange mixture of waterproof boots and microspikes to slog through varied conditions.
Perhaps there’s a good side to all this. For one thing, we do so appreciate the vividly clear winter day when there is nothing more beautiful than sunshine on clean white snow. The flip side is always bleak, muddy and messy. But isn’t life like this?
Today, while Sophie, my Chocolate Lab, and I took an unusually long time to travel an unusually short distance trudging our usual trails, I had plenty of time to laugh at her as she found opportunity to make a game out of just about everything. I also pondered the word THAW. Playing with shades of significance is an organic game. Toss a pebble (word) into a pond (mind) and watch the ripples (ideas) flow and expand.
To look on the dark side, thawing represents loss. To look on the bright side, thawing suggests softening, warming, even reshaping. Perhaps a thaw is a reminder of impermanence.
And then there’s the notion of melting. Yoga practitioners are familiar with Anahatasana, that wonderfully delicious heart-melting pose. After several minutes settling into this posture, the pose informs the body and the body informs the heart – it is good, it is safe, it is worthy to open, to be receptive, to love and be loved.
From the wisdom learned and shared by those who have come before us throughout generations, centuries, millennia, and previous to that, we embrace the balance of power and peace, strength and flexibility, masculine and feminine, Yang and Yin. We learn that softening the rough edges of aggression and force does not necessarily dilute strength. We hear the suggestion that melting the heart to practice tolerance and empathy does not, in turn, open us to vulnerability. We hope to melt debilitating tension to a form of useful energy. We recognize action as positive and, likewise, that passive does not mean weak, lazy or ineffective, but rather, thoughtful, generous and enduring.
A Yoga class is often ended with “OM” or a metta – a heart opening practice of loving kindness expressed to self and to others. In closing, I open my heart to you: “May you feel protected and safe. May you feel contented and pleased. May your body support you with strength. May your life unfold smoothly and with ease.” Happy January Thaw!
