by Luningning Sugbu

Created on: February 23, 2010   Last Updated: February 28, 2010

 As cold and dreary winter can be, it is a season with a far deeper purpose than the other three we mostly prefer. There may be bursts of colors in spring as the ice melted and animals wake up from their deep and long slumber, fall may mesmerize us with its changing hues that eventually turn brown and summer brings us the heat and excitement that compels us to enjoy the fun of the outdoors. Winter, on the other hand, brings the closing curtain to all the distractions to our senses, the smells, sights, and sounds and compels us to visit its silence and stillness that affords meditation and reflection to our otherwise exhausted and distracted minds.

As I take a stroll in the park, the scene seems to be solely in black and white where the fallen snow is the only mass that reflects the scanty though constant presence of the sun and the leafless trees turn into still shadows with outstretched arms and quiet streams a continuously flowing dark liquid disturbed only by the quacking of visiting ducks and the chirping of an occasional lost bird. Where am heading in this lonely landscape that seem endlessly bleak and cold? Scene after scene is no more interesting than the one before it and the wind seems to get colder and colder as it repeatedly touched my face and blew between my feet.

My mind grew quiet and the deeply felt moments of the past seasons came rushing forth, the struggles and the endless toil, the infrequent victories and crushing disappointments and mostly, the people that had hurt me the most. There is a purpose to life and to live it, I have to endure the battle scars within which didn't kill me but made me strong.... strong enough to make me face who I am with brutal honesty and threw me into the verge of humility though at times, pride and fear kept my eyes blind and my feet bound in denial.

Whereas my anger has always been directed to those who are the source of my pain, realization slowly dawned on my muddled state of mind that pain is universal if one wants to live. The extent of the pain depends on how I let it affect me and how I perceive its purpose in my life. I am as imperfect as the people who inflicted me pain and like them, my life is limited by mortality. It is in our struggles for living that we come in conflict with each other much like the prey and predator in the jungle, both striving to partake in the this landscape we call life.

So as I watch the black and white hues, I'm compelled to take the inner journey, striving to add nuggets of wisdom to my arsenal and forging my character while the world is still embraced by the cold and stillness of winter. And when the time comes when spring begins to steal the scene and distract and awaken my senses, I'll be ready to take on the battle again.

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