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Moving Forward into 2025: A Winter Reflection and the Paradox of Time

Writer's picture: Mary BortonMary Borton

As we move from January into February, we are invited to pause and reflect. January was a month of intensity—not just in the weather, but in the world around us. The cold, the snow, and the unfolding events have all created a sense of uncertainty. Yet, in the stillness of winter, there is a quiet invitation to go inward and find solace inside.


Winter’s Quiet Beauty: Holding Space for the Present

The snowy days of January evoke memories of childhood winters—the world wrapped in layers of white, the soft, dim light of the winter sun casting long shadows across the landscape. Snow days were a time for simplicity: cuddled up in blankets, sipping warm tea, and finding solace in the comfort of home.

And then there’s the physicality of it all—the way we move through winter, bundled up against the cold, navigating icy sidewalks like penguins. These small, everyday moments remind us of the stillness and simplicity that winter offers. There’s a certain kind of magic in the quiet of snow-covered days.

As the days grow just a bit longer and the light shifts ever so subtly, we are reminded that winter is not just about enduring the cold. It is a time for gestation, a time for going inward, for nurturing what lies beneath the surface. In this season, we do not rush toward the external warmth of spring; instead, we hold space for growth that is happening quietly, in the unseen and the unknown.


Winter’s Quiet Beauty: Holding Space for the Present

The snowy days of January evoke memories of childhood winters—the world wrapped in layers of white, the soft, dim light of the winter sun casting long shadows across the landscape. Snow days were a time for simplicity: cuddled up in blankets, sipping warm tea, and finding solace in the comfort of home.

And then there’s the physicality of it all—the way we move through winter, bundled up against the cold, navigating icy sidewalks like penguins. These small, everyday moments remind us of the stillness and simplicity that winter offers. There’s a certain kind of magic in the quiet of snow-covered days.

As the days grow just a bit longer and the light shifts ever so subtly, we are reminded that winter is not just about enduring the cold. It is a time for gestation, a time for going inward, for nurturing what lies beneath the surface. In this season, we do not rush toward the external warmth of spring; instead, we hold space for growth that is happening quietly, in the unseen and the unknown.


Living in the Paradox of Time

In our book groups, one phrase that resonates deeply with me as we move into 2025 is how we live in the paradox of past, present, and future simultaneously. How do we hold these dimensions of time together? How do we move forward while honoring where we’ve been and remaining open to where we are going?

This is not a question to be solved with intellect. Rather, it’s an inquiry that asks us to step beyond thinking and into feeling—into the body. It invites us to somaticize the question. What happens when we allow ourselves to sense, rather than analyze? When we sit with the paradox of time and feel it in our bodies, we open ourselves to a deeper understanding that transcends the intellectual.

By using tools like sensory awareness, metaphor, and imagination, we can begin to tap into this somatic space. It’s not about finding a concrete answer, but about experiencing the question fully. When we allow ourselves to feel where questions land in our bodies, we begin to unlock a kind of wisdom that doesn’t rely on quick solutions.


The Seeds of Hope Within Us: A Time for Gestation

As we sit in the depths of winter, another question arises: What seed of hope for the future lies within you, waiting for the right conditions to grow into the world?

This question doesn’t demand an immediate answer. Rather, it asks us to sit with the potential that is quietly germinating within us. Just as a seed rests in the dark, cold earth, waiting for the right moment to push toward the light, our dreams and ideas may also be in a phase of gestation.

Winter is not a time for forcing growth—it is a time for nurturing what is developing beneath the surface. These questions we hold are like seeds: they may not bloom right away, but they are quietly being nourished in ways we cannot always see. It’s okay if we don’t have all the answers right now. Sometimes, the best thing we can do is to hold space for what is still forming, trusting that the right conditions will emerge when the time is right.


Staying Present in the Season of Winter

As we move through February and beyond, we are invited to stay present in this winter season of gestation. It is not a time to rush ahead, but to nurture the quiet growth happening beneath the surface. The paradox of time—the past, present, and future all existing in us simultaneously—offers a kind of depth and richness that we can feel, even if we can’t fully understand it.

So, instead of rushing toward spring or longing for warmth, let us honor the quiet work of winter. Let us embrace the gestation period, knowing that the seeds we are planting today will, in time, find the right conditions to grow.



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