The first day of Autumn has arrived; already the mornings are that little bit darker and cooler as we farewell Summer and head into the colder months of the year. Noticing the subtle changes as one season morphs into the next, I find myself reflecting on the many illustrations that the natural environment provides on the cyclic nature of life.
The seasons themselves show us the necessity and benefits of alternating periods of growth and rest. The drop in temperature and shorter days signal to the earth that it’s time to slough off what’s no longer needed, hunker down and conserve energy to get through the harsher times ahead. Rest. Spring announces herself with warmth and light; new shoots push through and colour bursts out as the world shakes itself awake. Growth.
The moon and the tides show us the same – wax and wane, ebb and flow – a continuous movement encompassing both fullness and sparseness, more and less. A single day revolves through the 24-hour pattern of day and night, light and dark.
We are not separate from the cyclic nature of the world about; our own feminine bodies beat with the same rhythmic wisdom. For approximately forty years of our lives our bodies move through our menstrual cycle each month; a beautiful pattern of preparing to create, then shedding what is not required in readiness to anticipate creating once more.
Do we allow ourselves to tune into the cyclic nature? Do we ponder its lessons? Consider for a moment your attitude towards your own monthly cycle. Do you honour your body’s rhythms or are you a rigid taskmaster demanding peak performance at all times? Do you marvel at the miracle your body carries out each month or do you view your period as a hassle, something you resentfully put up with?
As participants of the fast-paced, success driven industrial world we strive for the linear experience; forever advancing, making more, moving forward and upward. After all, time is money. We chase the up and desperately resist the down. We slam up against the ancient wisdom of the earth that holds us and demand that it toes the line. We splinter ourselves off from nature and even our own bodies and wonder why we suffer so. We want stability and the straight road rather than the inconvenience of changing tides and the labyrinth.
I suspect that the earth we inhabit is revealing to us vital clues on how best to, not merely function, but thrive. Ebb and flow. Create and discard. Rest and grow. Perhaps we should start paying attention.
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Photo by Seth Macey on Unsplash