Friday, 9 March 2018

Rhythm



Winter became a slide into not-doing. I had a brief flurry of turning outwards with enthusiasm, just after Christmas, when the jolly and the new yearness of it all sparked something out of rhythm, but mostly I have not been doing.

I have not been taking flower essences. I have rarely been using essential oils. I have not done Reiki. I have not meditated. I have not sat in my sit spot. I have exercised but not as much as I could have done for real benefit. I have not eaten well. I have not kept a journal. I have not taken vitamins. I have not used the SAD lamp. I lost interest in social media, despite attempts to downsize and re-entrance myself. I have not walked. I have not painted. I have not sewn. I have not gardened. I have not really read. Slowly but surely, every single bit of self-care dropped away.

It was replaced mostly by a virulent form of self-criticism. How rubbish am I?

I ground. To. A halt.

Last week we had The Snow Day. For us it was no inconvenience, just an excellent reason for not going anywhere. For not doing. I took my mother to do some pre-snow shopping. I did my father's version of same for him. Bought logs for us and went home to the next day's snow and the quiet. At dusk on The Snow Day I went out into the lane - which wasn't being a lane, it was just white and joined up with the fields - and watched the crows coming into roost in the copse. Rooks and Jackdaws. Their noise was the only noise. No distant hum of the main road a couple of miles away. No nothing but crows. And then silence. It was a full moon and the light off the snow was magical. It reminded me of another magical place - with weeks of snow days - I lived in for a while back in the 80s. The beauty here, and remembered there, brought me to tears.

There is something about water, especially weather-y water, that speaks with me. I get it in mist and fog, downpours of rain, and snow. Maybe it's because the conditions stop 'life' and all the other input, allowing me to hear what's going on; I don't know. But I hear things in mist and snow. I know things.

The next day the snow went, and with it the knowing. But I keep thinking about it. Keep reaching for the message.

Last night I was out in the garden, thinking about how the non-evergreen plants and trees would be waking up soon after their sleep. Their hibernation, and months of not-doing. Oh. Wait...

So I've decided to stop with the criticism and instead recognise that I am simply in rhythm. I withdrew and withdrew. My sap dropped. I had no leaves nourishing me or flowers creating new life, but I certainly did go deep into my roots and spend time taking stock; assessing my self as it is now after all this change. I have felt utterly weak and drained, and then slowly felt life returning. Not much yet, but it's there. It's stirring.

Just as it should.


5 comments:

  1. Oh yes. And so beautifully expressed.

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  2. yes, ohmywordyes. naturally. :) xoxo

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  3. Rhythms, cycles and the truth xxx

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