Little Bill

I think winter’s gets a bad rap sometimes. Yesterday I was strolling in the East Village (still my favorite neighborhood) and it was remarkable how at peace I was. The air was brisk, blowing across my face. Even in New York there’s a silence that hangs in the air and there were less people out and about.

Most of the time I find myself succumbing to heavy moods during this season. Maybe it’s S.A.D., or maybe it’s something else. Perhaps it’s just my frame of mind.

Maybe I’ll choose, instead, to believe that Winter’s role is to wipe the slate clean and purify. Perhaps I’ll be cleansed and emerge refreshed. New. It’s better than thinking of the season as the little death we all experience when something ends. Instead it’s the sleep of the world. Maybe I’ll dream this season…

…and maybe I’ll awaken!