A Winter of Discontent
A reflection on what drives us onwards
After the initial euphoria of the festive celebrations and the dawn of the new year’s dazzling lights and streamers, the cold vistas of long roads hang heavy as we inch into the year. The merriment and joy seem to fade away into distant crevices in our memories. All that remains is our brave attempts at adhering to our new, shiny resolutions.
Plummeting temperatures have a big role to play in our ability to keep our spirits high. While the advent of nipping cold is pleasurable and a welcome change from the hot and humid climes, the tight hold of the jaws of winter ensures that we shiver to our very bones.
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
from Richard III, Shakespeare, spoken by Gloucester
Is it perchance that after a few hours of resolving to be our very best, and adopting the noblest of New Year Resolutions, we are tested to our hilt and forced to face the Winter of Discontent? Or is it a well-designed test of our will power — to thurst us into abject, bleak circumstances so that the strongest may survive to march to delightful measures?
