We need a refuge, even though we may never need to set foot in it. (Abbey)
One of the advantages to aging — you get to know yourself, and what you need, the real you, minus the bullshit . . .(paraphrased, from Robertson)
A cottage in winter. A doorway defined by darkness. Thoughts of warmth, of comfort, safety. A respite from the cold and from the unknown. A place to Be. A sanctuary.
I’d put lots of fluffy, colorful quilts in mine. A dog or two. And what’s a dog without a few cats. And then of course we need a fire for them to curl up by . . . Lots and LOTS of books . . .
The aromas of burning cedar wood in the fireplace, an apple pie fresh from the oven, yeasty bread dough shaped into loaves waiting for baking, maybe a pot of veggie soup or chili on the stove . . . Definitely hot chocolate . . .
Perfectly soft, non intrusive music so I could still hear the sounds of nature . . .
Would I want other people in my Winter Cottage? H’mmm. At the point of considering this, I have invited the possibility of — what? Definitely the unknown . . . Possibilities for less than harmony and peace . . . But also the delight of companionship and sharing . . .
As long as I can remember, and that’s a-WAY back there, I have longed for a companion, a playmate As a child, I invented one, my imaginary friend Learny. Learny KNEW and understood things, many wonderful things that I didn’t know. (Now I would likely call her my guardian angel, an old wise one.) And she didn’t give me a hard time, being a very agreeable sort, very unconditionally accepting.
She’s still around today, although she tends to appear more randomly. Perhaps I needed her more as a child. The people closest to me now in the flesh tend to be of the challenging sort, keeping me on my toes, and raising eyebrows at some of my more froufrou tendencies and ideas.
Maybe my writing these “whatever’s” and sending them out there into the unknown is a way of connecting with a companion — although yesterday my nearest and dearest suggested this writing just might be mental masturbation. It took me aback, which probably means there’s some (unpleasant) truth to it.
It would be fun to know what you would put into your “Winter Cottage” — your imaginary (or maybe real!!) place of refuge and sanctuary. Would you have other people there? I’ll probably never know, so I’ll imagine instead . . .
Here in the eastern U.S., winter arrives tomorrow, Thursday, December 21, at 10:27 p.m. Hope you have it all ready for yourself by then (your Winter Cottage, I mean, in case you haven’t been following my meandering thoughts)!
