Embracing emptiness
Last March, I wrote about how I have often felt lost, restless, uneasy, maybe even a bit fearful of winter's desolation. Now that we approach Imbolc, the Celtic tradition that celebrates -early February- how nature slowly begins to reawaken, I reflect on my changing relationship with winter(ing).
Over the course of January and February, I had felt a bit low, like every year. Nothing too serious. But low in energy, a bit withdrawn, wanting to sleep and read. And sleep. And read.
Fall I can deal with quite well. I see the leaves changing, the light fading, and I understand this can make people weary or sad, but it does not really affect me. Often I think: now it's already December- now it is already the new year, the winter will be over soon! Then January comes around, and I feel like shit.
Last winter, I tried to be more conscious of how I felt. And it made me realise. I am afraid of 'the nothingness'. Of the silence, the darkness. Things are happening underground, I do know that, but when you look around there appears to be emptiness.
In the film The NeverEnding Story, the young warrior Bastian is tasked with stopping the Nothing, a dark force, from destroying the wonderland world of Fantasia. While Fantasia represents boundless imagination, the Nothing stands for losing hopes and dreams.
And this is exactly how I feel: as if I need to fight the nothingness, escape it, trick it, because... what will I find when I go into the silence, the dark? Will I lose all hope and dreams?
So I dared myself last year. To give in to the nothingness. To give up my hopes and dreams and try (try!) to trust that things would be okay in the end.
I tried to prioritise rest and reflection. And I felt like a radical. I went to bed shamelessly early, and slept, and read.
Stumbling upon Laura Storm's and Giles Hutchins' book Regenerative Leadership (which now feels like a life-time ago!) I read about the 'Journey of separation', about how we became disconnected from nature, and from 'the logic of life':
"The seasons of life are at the very heart of nature's wisdom. We see this everywhere we turn - the ebb and flow of the tides, the cycles of the moon, the sun, death and rebirth, and rest and regeneration”.
"Winter is the phase of letting-go; a breaking down of old ways to make space for reflection and renewal - a period marked by slowing-down, taking stock, and perhaps hibernation".
And even though this sounded quite logical, it hit me in a new way. Even though I practice yoga and meditation, even though I made the change from working in a corporate environment to studying transitions and systemic change, even though I feel I already got out of (the centre of) the rat race - I do also still believe, somewhere, deep inside, my purpose is to
keep going
stay productive
and deliver.
As if we would stand above these silly natural laws: great for nature, but not us. Not us, people, we keep going, all day long, all year long, all of our lives. Yes and fair enough, one day we die, but we are pretty well-trained to push that away.
In March I saw the first snowdrops and crocuses bloom. I felt more energised and filled with ideas. Not thinking I shóuld have ideas,
keep going
stay productive
and deliver
But feeling, being full of plans. Like little snowdrops wanting, needing to grow.
In January and February there had been silence. I did not have that much to say. While with these early signs of spring I wánted to write, I wanted to share my thinking.
And it made me wonder: how much different would our world look if we would dare more often to winter? To be silent. To let the soil rest.
So that new sprouts can appear. Not because we believe they must. But simply because there is no other way.
During the last year, a lot has changed, I have changed (not in the least because I joined the Regenerative Leadership Journey). And also, I still do need the reminder. This winter it is still there, a restlessness. Even though, it is more subdued. As if being more accepting of the dark, the empty, brings with it a lightness. I am saying this without truly knowing yet what that means. But, I promise to pay attention and report back, maybe once spring further unfolds.