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As a Black woman, born and raised in the Midwest, you’d think I’d be used to these winters that last half the year. As a romantic optimist, I pride myself on finding joy in the cozy of a sweater, in the quiet of the snow, in the warmth of a crackling fire. But the relief I felt when hugged by Florida’s humidity cannot be denied.
Right on time, I snuck away from the normal bustle of life in a weekend of respite. I traveled
as far south as I could go (without needing a passport) and landed on the beach of the Atlantic Ocean. Oh, how my curls rejoiced! My curls and ebony complexion delighted in warm breeze and blazing sun.
If I could bottle up all these sensations to save until summer, I would. Yet, now that I’ve returned to the winter wonderland that is February in the Midwest, there is one particular feeling I cradle within me. It is the rocking of the tide.
In Florida, I took my time watching the waves rush toward me, tickling my toes, pulling me nearer. What could be so powerful to pull this great blue expanse of the ocean toward land again and again? Above the horizon there is an imperfect sphere with a gravitational pull that beckons our ocean closer.
I am doing my best to ease into 2022 (Self-Compassion Over Self-Improvement). Now, deep into February, I will consider the moon of my life. What vision pulls the daily rhythms of my internal tide? Is there an intention setting the tempo of my habits? Are they healthy? Are they sporadic? Perhaps now is the time to clear the clouds, invite a brighter picture of the moon and set the rhythms of my own current to carry me forward.
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