Here’s a meteorological metaphor

I hate winter. It’s bleak, dreary, cold,  wet and everything outside is grey  and brown.

No verdancy, no vibrancy and even the sky can only offer occasional blotches of icy blue before it is suffocated.

The wind is fierce and merciless, helpless to provide any relief, regardless of what direction it is being propelled from.

On the rare moments when it’s just bearable to venture out into the straggly, leafless remnants of the once lush and productive garden, by the time tools have been located and cleaned, the forlorn sun abruptly departs to seek the comfort of a warmer hemisphere.

On really cold, wet and windy days,  it’s nice to shelter in a warm and  draught-free house with a generous reverse-cycle air-conditioner wafting fake, heated air throughout my meteorologically imposed prison.

Then, I think about the power being consumed to create this artificial  microclimate and realise that the solar panels I will be paying off for the next seven years are useless today.

Winter is a great time to reflect on  a long, active sporting career. My left knee immediately reminds me that cartilage is very important for maintaining mobility in joints and that, without it, any movement is painful.

Scar tissue and calcification around healed fractures develops a whole new density, and whatever happens to dislocations awakens with a frenzied zest to relive the original event.

Evidently, carpel tunnel is a seasonal complaint that thrives in winter, which is particularly frustrating for a writer attempting to thump out words of wintery whingeing on a laptop keyboard with the most used keys strategically placed to inflict maximum pain.

Then, there are the daffodils.

In mid-winter, these hardy little bulbs surreptitiously sprout green spikes from the depths of the frost-bitten, barren garden earth.

Only noticeable to the optimistic eye, they forge slowly upward, despite the late frosts and biting easterlies that flatten the wimpy winter grasses.

Toward late winter, central stems begin to swell with expectancy, assuring us shivering humans that something wonderful awaits.

Kabloom! These incredibly vivid-yellow projections of hope and happiness trumpet their message to all life forms that it’s time to wake up and step into spring.

The sight of this band of emblazoned proclaimers injects an assuring formulation of relief, confidence, optimism and excitement directly into seized joints and the pre-frontal cortex.

Suddenly, the torture endured for what seems like forever (but was really only a couple of months) is all worthwhile.

The seasons ahead are full of growth and colour and movement.

Warmth, wonderful warmth is abundant, washing away the physical pain and emotional torment of another uncomfortable seasonal transition.

If we look at spring, summer and autumn as irresistible forces of inspiration, productivity and generosity and winter as an awkward short period of transition, we can deal with life’s ‘winters’ positively.

There’s a daffodil patch somewhere waiting to catch our attention and inspire motivation, forgiveness or whatever we need to wake up and love life again.

I still hate winter.

If this article resonates with you, I would love to hear from you. Contact me at: charliegriffithscoaching.com

 Charlie Griffiths is a certified life  coach and Neuro Linguistic  Programming practitioner dedicated to helping fellow professionals refocus after being diagnosed with chronic disease.  Visit charliegriffithscoaching.com.