Suzanne Askham

Warm thoughts about ice

Meditation word over the coming week is ‘ice’. One of the meditators last week said it made her feel chilly just to think of it. So I thought I’d write a few thoughts for you, Diane, and all of us, to widen the associations. Here goes…

In dreams, ice may often be a symbol of transformation. It can be a symbol of frozen energy: some aspect of the psyche that hasn’t changed and developed, most likely as a result of trauma – something a younger version of ourselves just couldn’t cope with, so we put it in deep storage.

The thing is, there is such potential in this frozen energy. When the ice melts, new power and abilities may course through the psyche. Our lives can transform as we reconnect with aspects of ourselves that we had all but forgotten.

Ice can form the most beautiful crystals. For all who love crystals, winter can be the most transformative time of year as we walk in a three-dimensional crystal world: frost and snow on the trees above us, snow beneath our feet.

Ice can bring out the child in us. What memories do you have? I remember my five-year-old self all bundled up and scrunching through deep snow in the streets of an East European city. I remember stopping by a doughnut stall: watching the little ring doughnuts cook before my eyes; the sweet scent of warm food on a cold winter’s day.

Ice can also help us re-connnect with our inner child  as adults. I have a warm memory from last winter: lying on the snow, side by side with my daughter as we made snow angels, then going indoors for hot chocolate.

Fire and ice are both opposites and natural companions. As Steven’s picture of icebergs in Greenland demonstrates, sun gradually melts the ice, allowing it to flow. It’s helpful to see that process in ourselves. In what areas of our lives are we allowing ourselves to become more open, to flow with greater ease?

Ice is about pause – the pause between two growing seasons. A time when plants dream of all that they are going to be, and our sleeping selves keep files of all that we may become. Who knows how long the icy pause may last? And yet, life may still be there, waiting to emerge. I’m thinking about that incredible plant, the white Campion, Silene stenophylla. Its fruits were frozen in the Siberian permafrost for over 30,000 years. Then, one day, Russian scientists discovered a way to propagate them, and the ancient campions bloom again.