A rose in January
It’s raining hard in Seattle today, the kind of rain that seems to be saying, “Yes, it’s certain. Winter is coming.” So it got me thinking about a metaphor I sometimes use when people are feeling discouraged about their own ability to grow or change. (Or they’re feeling discouraged about their partner growing and changing.)
It’s a pretty simple metaphor: in January, a rose doesn’t look or smell like a rose. It actually looks pretty pathetic: a few dark, prickly sticks shooting out of the ground, and that’s it. Maybe there are a few forlorn leaves from last season clinging to the sticks. And maybe–if winter has been going on long enough–there are a couple of very small leaf buds pushing out at certain points. But it’s not the most attractive winter plant in your garden. And it just can’t compare to what a rose looks like in June.
If you’re discouraged, it might be because you’re a rose in January right now, at least with regard to the problem you’re having. You have a hard time feeling comfortable at cocktail parties. Or you’re scared because if you confront your partner about a problem, you’re certain it’ll just turn into a fight. Or you’re frustrated about your weight. Or you can’t stop smoking.
Whatever your problem is, try to take a moment to regard yourself with a little more compassion, and imagine yourself as a rose in January: these are dark times, and you’re certainly not blossoming. But even now, in all this cold and wet, you might be able to notice small movements within yourself. You’re able to do more at cocktail parties than you used to. You’re scared about your relationship problem, but you have a couple of good ideas and are getting (just a little) better at fighting in a healthy way. Or you’re at least maintaining your weight, and starting to eat more vegetables. Or you’re finally ready to think about a smoking-cessation program, and this time you have a little more support.
Even if you can’t notice any of those things, keep imagining yourself as a rose in January. It’s a necessary part of the life cycle for a rose: they can’t blossom all year round. They need time to retreat, rest, and let go of all their fragrant beauty. This time in your life might be a lot like that. It might be a Winter time. If so, then I encourage you to be comforted by the potential and promise of Spring.
