Power of a Winter Night

I walked outside tonight and took a deep breath of the fresh, cold winter air. Crisp and bold, it’s the complete opposite of a summer night that’s heavy with living earthy things. Winter air is empty, but strong. I felt that first breath reach down and touch the bottom of my lungs.

Stretching up and looking at the clear starry sky, I felt thankful. I’ve had a lot of these kind of moments in many wild places and in the not-so-wild too. In each occasion, it feels like I slip out of the current press of my life and into a place where nothing is more important than figuring out what constellations I still remember. 

And somehow all these moments are connected in my mind. There’s a shared feeling that comes over me. I can jump from memory to memory of looking up at the night sky with ease. Northern Wisconsin, shimmering with blue and green northern lights. Black Hills watching the moon rise in an expansive sky. In Colorado where the Tenmile Range cuts into the Milky Way.

No matter where I am, that blue-black sky full of stars and the jolt of cold air will grab me in the same way. Looking into something so big, I remember what matters. The brisk urgency of the cold air strikes my exposed skin and nose as I force a deep inhale. It’s a moment to reset and do nothing but breathe and look up. These moments ground me and help me keep my perspective during all the craziness.

I worry about those layers of crazy that keep piling onto to me. I know I can handle them, but new layers bury old layers. It’s just how life keeps coming. Luckily, the power of a winter night helps. That massive sky seems to give space to all the things pushing on me. They can float away with my steamy breath. If I want, I can take time to look at them ease past me or just let them go.