Who says you can't read outside in the winter?

Who says you can't read outside in the winter?

For some of us readers winter is a delicious season to curl up with a book on the couch propped up with soft pillows and burrowed in warm blankets.  A cup of hot tea sits on the nearby table and we luxuriate in our reading world for hours on end as the snow falls gently outside the windows.

Today I thought:  Why shouldn’t we read outside in the winter?

Now you’re certain I’ve gone crazy with this outdoors commitment, aren’t you?  (Wrong!  This is simply creativity coming to the forefront.)

I decided against attempting a novel.  You want something which allows you to read a paragraph or so, glance upwards, admire the trees, smile at the sun, then begin reading again.  Poetry would be perfect!  You could read a stanza, then allow your eyes to wander to the landscape while the words are properly digested. 

I examined my poetry library.  Two books.  One, The Moon is Always Female by Marge Piercy.  A lovely read!  Two, The Essential Rumi

It obviously had to be Rumi.  There’s something about Rumi which befuddles the mind and leaves your soul and spirit resonating, “Yes!  Yes!”  Rumi would approve of reading outside at 10 degrees.  Anything a bit crazy would have Rumi praising God backwards and upside down.

I leaned against the back deck and began to read.  Heavy mittens prevent easy turning of pages, so one must allow the Universe to determine the appropriate poem.

Here is part of the poem that announced itself (entitled The Dream that Must be Interrupted):

We began

as a mineral.  We emerged into plant life

and into the animal state, and then into being human,

and always we have forgotten our former states,

except in early spring when we slightly recall

being green again.

That’s how a young person turns

toward a teacher.  That’s how a baby leans

toward the breast, without knowing the secret

of its desire, yet turning instinctively.

Humankind is being led along an evolving course,

through this migration of intelligences,

and though  we seem to be sleeping,

there is an inner wakefulness

that directs the dream,

and that will eventually startle us back

to the truth of who we are

Rumi sitting in the snow

Rumi sitting in the snow

After you read those words look up at the trees and see if they don’t agree.  And don’t you love that line:  except in the early spring when we slightly recall being green again?

The only problem with reading outside at such cold temperatures is exposed skin.  Such as one’s nose.  It got cold.  However, I solved that problem.  When it became too chilly, I shoveled.  Read poetry, feel the wisdom, survey the landscape, shovel. 

I thoroughly recommend this outdoor reading to everyone!  Let me know how it goes!  You can do it!!

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