Now that February has past, I realize it brought the reality of living in northern climes front and center for me, as it has not for years. My hope that global warming would actually warm up Chicago seemed to be coming true: November, December and even into January we appeared to have dodged the usual winter debacle, but in the long run did not.
Even with the return of the frigid cold there were none of the expected survival condition that we experienced in the seventies. Back then, on my daily rounds as a suburban USPS Letter Carrier, I walked in trenches carved out of ten-foot tall snowdrifts, and when finally managing to get home did not see the light of day, or for that matter the mercury-vapor streetlights, for months while buried under the snow in my garden apartment.
The idea that these conditions can exist in a large city with almost unlimited resources is a testament to the power of nature. So the other Monday morning when I found myself sitting gloomily slumped in my chair, melancholic and enveloped in foul vapors, I knew there was more to it than just my usual funk.
It dawned on me then that it was February. The sun was beginning to rise earlier and set later, but I could not convince myself of that. February is a state of mind and though I am a fairly positive person, if I could erase a month from the calendar it would be numero dos.
In the month-to-end-all-months, the only bright light is the Super Bowl and if you are not a sports fan, the hilarity surrounding the game makes February even more depressing. The only positive thing I can think of is, it only lasts 28 days.
But before I digress entirely into the dark side of my soul, let me state that February does have some bright spots. For one our tea association, Chado Urasenke Tankokai Chicago Association, has a belated New Years celebration called tatezome the first Sunday of the month. I think of it as a gathering of family. It is wonderful to see our members so engaged in the process of planning and performing chanoyu.
And February also sets us aside from the less contemplative parts of the world. What is there left to do, even with all the modern distractions, on a cold Sunday afternoon but read a good book, watch an old movie or well, just sit with a cup of tea and contemplate.
February is downright character building and characters it does build. I can attest that our city is full of gloriously quirky individuals. February reminds us, as we say in medicine, of our morbidity and mortality. It says to us we are mortal, expendable, and better get on with ours lives and make the best of every fleeting moment lest they disappear forever.
This is the ultimate meaning of February for me. I doubt I ever would have understood if it had not been for the hands-on teaching of Chado, which stresses the here-and-now as opposed to practicing for some future gain. I have read many philosophical tracts on the subject, but I needed the stable under pinning that physical practice gives to words. For in the long run, words without practice ring hollow—so lets get to work.
