Winter is the Best Time David Budbill

Winter is the best time
to find out who you are.

Quiet, contemplation time,
away from the rushing world,

cold time, dark time, holed-up
pulled-in time and space

to see that inner landscape,
that place hidden and within.

Winter is the Best Time

This from a Vermont poet who knew what deep, cold winters can be like made me think of our own Canadian winters. I know some of us dread it, shiver with the cold, long for the warmth of the sun, don’t love to shovel snow. Some of us love the winter best of all for its opportunities to be out on the land by skis or skating. For myself, it’s more that winter tends to go on, and on, too long. But Budbill offers us another way to look at this season.

This is the best time, he tells us, to find out who you are. Because winter means more darkness, the quiet that comes with a muffling blanket of snow, it gives us contemplation time, time to withdraw from the habitual busyness of our lives, the rushing world. We don’t have to live in a monastery to be reflective, to consider how our lives are unfolding.

It is the time of cold and dark, holed-up / pulled-in time and space, a time we only get in these long months. He is reminding us that this is a time to see that inner landscape if we are willing to look within to what may be hidden. Perhaps this may speak to you, call you to some contemplative time. Who are you really?

In addition, I would like to add a link to a piece I wrote on the deep connection of mindfulness and poetry at the kind invitation of a UK site devoted to meditation practice. I encourage you to take a look at their lovely site and many offerings. Here is mine:

12 thoughts on “Winter is the Best Time David Budbill

  1. What a find! I love love love this poem! Budbill packs so much wisdom in so few words. In your commentary, you capture so well the yin and yang of winter. I can’t wait to read your piece on Mindfulness and Poetry. Thank you! xoxo


  2. Jan,
    As I reflect I realize that Covid this past year has, in many ways, felt like a sort of winter for me – a time I’ve spent wandering about that inner landscape “away from the rushing world”. Actual winter has added that snow muffled quiet you describe. The early darkness lends itself to introspection and contemplation. This small poem is beautiful and feels comforting. Thank you Jan, Lisa xo


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