Rest is our right. We need not ask for it, as it belongs to us; it cannot be denied to us. We honor the winter. When she calls, we fall into that heavy breath. We celebrate her magicks: the slow, the quiet, the dark. We wrap ourselves in the pillowy slumbers of the season, in her abundant respite.

We carry these magicks throughout the year. We trust in that inner place where sound becomes still, where time freezes over - where calm waters become calmer. We listen for when to become like ice and when to wake, though we do not hurry; we welcome the healing this slow pulse will bring. We will still our hands. We will trust in the process. We will find repose.

[image info: 1824 x 2736, GIF - 6 frames]