I am so influenced by nature. I know this, but still I think, probably like most people, that I'm above being affected by it.
Just a few weeks ago, when the nights really started drawing in, I realised that almost everyone I spoke to was saying how terrible they felt; how low in energy and motivation (even people I'd usually turn to to pep me up). Then I heard an article on the radio saying that new research clearly shows that we are all far more affected by the changes in the amount and quality of light than is generally acknowledged. What our bodies want to do, is curl up in front of the fire and stay inside in a safe warm cocoon.
As human beings fully in the grip of the twenty-first century, few of us are prepared to do this (if our employers would allow).
Of course, there are many ancient philosophies, in which the seasons and their effects on us is central.
Recognising what happens naturally, they tell us of the necessary cycle, where winter is a time of drawing our energies in, of going inside ourselves to sift our life experiences and our values and to be able to tell us what to consolidate and keep and what to allow to fade away quietly.
This is very sensible advice. It's important to know when to keep going with something, be it business, relationship or plants in the garden; and when to allow things to die naturally. Some of these things, like bulbs will come back strongly in the spring, but some, like the bright and generous annuals from seed, were only intended to last one cycle.
This year however, as the seaon has progressed, my senses have been confused. Here in rural Yorkshire, autumn seems unable to give way to winter. I'm surrounded by glorious trees which glow like flames every time I look outside; my heart sings like it would burst on every dog walk and I'm filled with joy and gratitude just soaking up all this fabulous colour. Even when the sky is dark steely grey, the reds and golds shout out, demanding their due of my awe and attention and more often than not, it's beautifully sunny; almost like summer for a few wonderful hours.
I'm used to quietly succumbing to mist, dark and cold, and everything settling down to death and the winter very neatly.
What does inevitably happen though, is that by evening, it's turning cold and dark and what I want to do is light the fire and snuggle up all cozy.
It's like experiencing a whole year; a whole cycle, every day and I realise I quite like it, (it suits my short concentration span).
Of course, in Chinese philosophy, this has been widely known for centuries.
That flow from one element to another is recognised as just the cycle, one inside another; on and on, and the sensible thing to do is not to try and fight it but to work with it or maybe that should be, to allow it to work through us?
Every idea, every relationship, business and garden goes through it's cycle of the tremendous burst of energy, excitement and growth that is spring, puts itself out there in the world in all it's glory, which is summer energy, reaps fruit (autumn) and then draws back for the neccessary sorting and sifting; that choosing of which aspects to continue with, what to change and what to keep exactly as it is. This is winter and in spite of the sunshine and colour it will come to us.
As humans in the grip of this thing greater than ourselves it's important to recognise it and simply, adjust. It's what we're good at, after all.
But winter isn't just a death, if we look at the garden again, a lot's going on, it just isn't visible to us.
Winter isn't actually only an ending, it's the planning time, the pregnant time when everything is getting itself all ready to burst out when spring comes. We can use those nights sitting cozy in front of the fire to really do the planning, the sorting and sifting. To prepare and be ready to grasp the right moment for action when it comes.
This is what's going on for Hattie and I. We are completely in the grip of the cycle and it feels great. Go to her blog for more.
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