Winter Meditation on Skadhi
by Galina Krasskova
In my neighborhood, today is certainly a day to be
honoring Skadhi as Goddess of winter. We’re in the tail end of a major
snowstorm and the world outside is coated in a foot of white. As I type
this, I’m listening to the sound of snow shovels on my driveway
(courtesy of my neighbor’s children) and the occasional snow plow on the
street. The snow itself insulating the house has made it warmer, and
everything feels as though it’s suspended in an almost unearthly quiet.
Winter
is a strange time, as magical as summer though I don’t think it is
quite as often given its due. Winter is all about the quiet before
manifestation. It can be a brutal time, a time of tearing away the old,
the brittle, those things no longer necessary; it can be a hostile time,
showing no quarter to the unprepared or weak. Yet it is beautiful and
in its own way cleansing. Winter can, I suppose, bring loneliness or
solitude and I suspect that is one of its mysteries. What we find in
those moments of quiet, of isolation depends on how well we’ve prepared.
It’s a time to honor the frost Etins. Skadhi is there in the cold, in the bitter, biting touch of the
ice, in the enchantment of a silent landscape covered with snow, in the
way such places beckon and compel the heart. She is a Goddess of wild
places and of the cold that cleanses the spirit. She is a Goddess of the
killing cold, the cold that shows no mercy; and She is a Goddess of the
beauty and blessings of Winter.
What
are the lessons of Winter? That at least is a thing easily gleaned from
folk and fairy tales. Many are the stories of young girls being sent by
cruel relatives as brides for Father Frost (or in some cases Father
Winter). The hope of course in every case, is that the cold of Winter
will freeze the poor child to death, stealing warmth, and breath, and
life. Instead, the girl inevitably returns, not only alive but having
been gifted with wealth beyond measure. What saved her in the face of
Father Frost? Usually it was her fearless courage and (how
often we forget this in our communities) her gentle, unassuming
courtesy. Perhaps that is the essential lesson of the spirits of Winter:
knowing how to behave properly in any circumstance and having the
courage to be kind. Winter, after all, and all its children (ice, frost,
cold, snow—a thousand kinds of snow) is implacable and what else can
one do in the face of its power? Kindness is sometimes enough to see one
through the darkest of winter nights, even those of the soul.
So
in our own dark nights of winter, may we praise this Goddess of the
hunt, this Goddess of the killing cold, that She may look upon us with a
predator’s compassion. Hail, Skadhi.
Artwork by Ursawolf.