Midwinter

Now the leaves have fallen.

The trees have pulled their aliveness

back in from their branches,

down into their fortress trunks

and the dark, subterranean closeness of their roots.

Every year they let go of 

exactly what everyone says 

is most beautiful about them

to save their own lives.

The time will come

when you, too, have to drop

all the ways you’ve made yourself worth loving

and finally learn how 

to sit quietly in the center 

of your own small life.

Only there can you cry the tears

your life depends on.

Only there can you find

the tiny seed

that holds the whole mystery of you

and cradle it 

in the warmth of your body 

until the spring.

-- James A. Pearson

This wisdom filled poem came to my attention this week and it surprised me how adeptly it articulated my journey of the last number of years. I am so grateful when others, through words or art, can communicate an experience I have lived but haven’t known how to express. 

I distinctly remember the moment eight years ago when I visualized an overflowing, abundantly leafy tree completely stripped of all its beauty and glory, and knew that tree was me. It was a season where I felt emptied of all my capabilities, strengths, resilience, and ego. Having dropped all the ways I’d “made myself worth loving,” I felt bare, desolate and afraid.

Since that time, I have spent years quietly learning to sit in the centre of my “own small life”. Metaphors of seeds in the ground, caterpillars metamorphosing in cocoons, and babies in wombs have helped me settle into this deep and quiet place. 

And I am a little less afraid. 

I have leaned into the hushed, dark season of Winter and I have learned to welcome it. For in it, I have discovered the wild mystery of dormancy, where quiet and unseen transformation takes place undisturbed by the hustle and bustle of external pulls toward a life that always looks fresh, bright, and new. 

Yesterday we celebrated midwinter which means at least six more weeks before we see any signs of spring. It might be much longer for my inner journey, but I’m not without hope, for Winter is a time to listen, rest, and wait quietly in the darkness with the tiny seed that is me.