Wintertime

References to earthy themes as they relate to the interior life have almost become a cliche, it seems to me. But when something is oft repeated, there is a reason why. I love the Jungian idea that when we dream, we don’t only dream for ourselves. We might also be dreaming for our family, for our community, for our country, or even for the land. There is a lunar place where the lines between things are no longer so distinct. I love the idea that my dreams might be rising up from the hills, swelling up from the ground under me, and passing through me at night. I continue to become only more and more convinced across my lifespan that we are an intimate part of this earth. Our rhythms mirror her rhythms, and our needs her needs. (A part of me is balking at the second half of that statement, but a certain poetic instinct tells me it’s true, and must be said.) I mean it in the sense that we naturally need moments of hybernation, rest and germination. We need to winter. We have moments of breaking through into the light with new ideas, projects, relationships (spring). We have moments of busy flourishing (summer). And we have moments of winding down the pushing, pruning back and enjoying the harvest (fall). Sometimes, I swear it feels like our needs in this regard mirror the actual seasons. Or there may be a larger, longer winter or summer in our lives. There are layers of larger and smaller cycles layered upon each other. It seems like sometimes people become even busier than usual in December and January, and even more resentful than usual of their continual busy-ness. I think it’s because there’s a natural impulse at this time of year to go into the quiet, to contemplate, to be with the body, to rest. How can you honor that, even in small ways? Reach out here for more information on ecopsychology and how we can weave it into our approach together.