your life
Throw off your leaves Perhaps this winter we can learn from the trees which, stripped of their leaves, feed the earth.
copy and illustrations JANI AUGUST YN- GOUSSARD photos ED OʼRILEY
I
tʼs winter and time for clearing out and giving away. This may sound like a contradiction, but itʼs a powerful tonic against the cold. The icy wind and rain keeps us indoors, encourages us to conserve and cocoon under cosy blankets. . . But I become anxious at the thought of being shut inside, of shorter days and longer nights between the walls of my house. Each year, winter takes my tangled heart on a journey of self-discovery. I am an outdoor person and long for summer days filled with activity, for walks in the early morning light and the eveningʼs colour show. Yes, there is the pleasure of snuggly jerseys, fires in the hearth and simmering bredies on the stove. Itʼs romantic, but there is also something different about this time of year, when it feels as if everything is being stripped away. The feeling of nature emptying itself, cleaning house as it were, to make place for something new. The arrival of winter is an invitation to join nature in turning over a new leaf. Almost like swimming in ice-cold water, yes, even in the winter, there is something healing about unpacking, clearing, reducing and taking delight in the change and eventual renewal.
122 IDEAS May/June 2022
As I sit here and write, around me there I can see stacks of books, pictures leaning against the wall that havenʼt been hung up yet, in the kitchen piles of teacups balancing on one another. I pull a colourful blanket, one of many, closer to soothe my soul. There is so much love and comfort in this room, in this house, with each item telling a story, but with winter peeping in through my window, I realise I have accumulated too many things over the years. Just thinking about giving away my treasures brings a lump to my throat, and I try to convince myself that they are all an inherent part of who I am. But then the tree in the garden catches my eye: She has already thrown off all her leaves, laid them down in a carpet of giving away, but actually of giving back. Giving back to the earth through which her roots are deeply plaited, to be fed again with the fruits of her generosity. Perhaps I ought to empty out and reduce, just like the tree and her leaves leaves that become a new beginning, become compost to feed other plants and the tree itself. If we think we are giving other people a chance to find new happiness with our donations, that we may even be a life changer in someoneʼs world, then this is a powerful,
nurturing vitamin for the mind. I really donʼt need to keep every book I have ever read on my bookshelves; to tell the truth, now that I look closely, I can see there are quite a few that Iʼve never read ‒ and my taste has changed so much I will no longer get the same enjoyment from them. My love for collectables and vintage teacups is staring me in the face I could sponsor the crockery for an entire party! And what a wonderful thought this is! Tea in someone elseʼs garden, a cup warming someone elseʼs hands. I pull a box closer, fill the table with things and make edible gifts to give away, dish and all, healing gifts. I want to feel the joy of giving with all my senses. I make chocolate treats with candied orange and nuts that remind me of winter trees and sunshine, to give away so others can share in the happiness. We donʼt need to collect objects to affirm our existence or fully experience who we are; this takes time and mindfulness. There are so many people out there who could benefit from your generosity. Along with donating, you free yourself from being possessed by your possessions. Itʼs time to reduce, so you can grow and create space for a lighter, more defined self.
