Greeting the darkness

It’s time to greet the darkness again.

The wheel of the year is turning.  A chill has sneaked into our morning air and August sunshine and carefree summer days will soon be a distant memory.  We are officially heading into the dark half of the year.

This time of year is odd, if you think about it.  If you follow the standard calendar, we are officially three quarters of the way through the year when we reach mid to late September, and yet in our modern lives we also find ourselves on a threshold, at a time of ending and a time of beginning.

Our long, light, busy, adventurous, lazy, hazy summer days are fading behind us. Some of us will grieve their passing.  For me, they are here too short a time so I will be among those numbers.

And, our attention is being called towards our work, and our education; we are being asked to bring new vigour to these spheres of life, whilst at the same time facing a world which is fading into darkness. We are being asked to do something which is largely at odds with the season’s call.

I like to take autumn inspiration from our glorious cousins the trees, the original standing people (we are actually related on an evolutionary scale, we just took a different path in a time so long ago that none of us can remember).

At this time of year, the trees are having one final push to put forth the seeds for next year’s growth, and to draw their resources deep inside of them in order to best survive the harshness of winter when it arrives. And they do so in a spectacular blaze of colour, and what looks like a flamboyant, energetic performance, but in actual fact is the vivid, technicolour visual display of a mini-death.

I find myself wondering if this is why our attention is drawn towards learning and creating again.  But, instead of being about a new beginning, as we are asked to believe by society, I wonder – is this our call to our final stand this year, might this be our opportunity to sew the seeds which will hopefully germinate next spring, to gather our resources for the winter and to retreat into a mini-death, to lie dormant for the darkest of seasons, and an invitation to trust in life’s tendency towards renewal?

If it is, perhaps we could approach the rapidly approaching autumn in a slightly different way.  Try these suggestions on for size, and let me know how you get on…

A morning ritual

Step outside every morning and breathe the air.  What changes do you notice as each day goes by? Allow yourself to really feel the season changing and notice what this inspires in you.  Follow your intuition.

A season’s work

Tend to the dying summer, and put forth the seeds of next year.  If we are to follow the natural rhythm of this season, now is not really the time for new projects.  Our energy is best used in ensuring we get our projects which are already underway through to completion, or at least to a stage where they can tolerate us slowing down a little through the darkest of seasons.  What do you need to do to tie up your work for this year? What can you leave as a seed of inspiration, or young growth to overwinter and trust that the spring will reinvigorate? What resources do you need to gather around you, so that you can slow as the call to winter hibernation seeps into your bones?

For your journal

Reflect on your harvests from the year. What you have achieved (small and large, personal and professional) this year? What unexpected blessings have come your way?

Will there be one last harvest? If so, what is the most important thing you want to bring to completion this year?

In Autumn we are drawn, in particular, to the balance between life and death. Everything is dying all around us. And that death is necessary, in order for new life to grow in the spring. What are you ready to let go of? What needs to be shed, in order to become the rich compost for next year’s growth?

Gather in your harvest

This time, I’m talking a literal one.  Gather in the final fruits and seeds of the season and prepare them to be stored in order to nourish and support you over the winter. Think pickles, preserves, dried fruits and seeds, dried herbs for cooking and teas. They will remind you that the sun will indeed return again, and that warmer times are a short season away.

A more metaphorical harvest to sustain you, might involve you thinking about what you might need around you to keep you going as the nights draw in.  Think gathering warming and nourishing recipes, activities to keep you entertained through the longer nights (I like knitting and crochet, reading, and gathering my family around me to share in good food and good conversation), cosy blankets and physical resources to make your home more comfortable when the cold sets in proper.  Let your imagination run wild.

Returning to the world’s natural rhythms is no small undertaking when we are surrounded by a culture which is largely divorced from our heritage.  Go slow, feel into the shift you want to make.  Be gentle with yourself, and enjoy the experiment.

If you have any questions, get in contact.

I hope you enjoy trying something different this year.

Warm wishes

Rachel x

P.S. if you’d like to check out what I’m bringing to completion this year, take a look at my workshops, groups and online courses page. I’ve got a couple of lovely autumn offerings there. And if you would like some support to explore what doing things differently might mean for you, book a discovery call and let’s see if working together might be useful for you.