• Drink hot cocoa.
  • Throw flowers into the wind, merrily—what a beautiful day!
  • Cozy up in bed.
  • Bake some pastries for your friends.
  • Light offerings for a sun goddess; perhaps they are long overdue.
  • Read some poetry, all bundled up.
  • Play some frisbee at the park.
  • Go ice skating and, if you need, hang onto the sides.
  • You were right—the offerings were long overdue. The world is awakening. You are awakening. For the first time in a long time, you feel alive; as the flowers bloom under the newly born periwinkle sky, so too shall you bloom. There is nothing more to do but pray to the goddess within the great ball of fire above, as well as the god within you, that with this upcoming season of spring, you may love yourself forevermore…
  • Whoops, it’s still cold, be careful of black ice on the roads.
  • Buy some new gloves.
  • Replace your wet mask because you’re sneezing outside.
  • Stick out your tongue for snowflakes.
  • Put that winter jacket in the closet.
  • Skip. Just, skip. This is the best activity on this list.
  • It’s freezing again—take that jacket back out of the closet.
  • Dance around your local maypole.
  • Bring an extra pair of fuzzy socks with you when you go out, just in case.
  • It is time, and you see off in the distance, the flowers you threw into the wind, merrily, come back to you, from a winter breeze that has died before your eyes. You have woken. The webbed skin between your fingers is tense, almost prepared it would seem, for something you don’t know yet. You touch your neck, and you feel like a completely different person, full of energy, the sunlight radiating within your veins (it’s the Vitamin D, honestly). You are a force to be reckoned with, because with the oncoming melting of snow, building warmth of spring—you have learned to love yourself better than ever before. The world folds in on itself, and you can see we’re all interconnected, just like the Buddha and Carl Sagan said. Love inside all of us. An amazing revelation. And finally, with the notion that you will see more people in the world, also woken with the cycle of seasons, you remind yourself of your Meyers-Briggs personality type and all of your other wonderful conversation starters—then, you open your front door.
  • It’s snowed again. You have to shovel the driveway. Fuck. Fuck. No!
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