I have not written anything here in over a month. This is totally unlike me. As I stop to consider what’s going on, I’m realizing this is a positive thing, very much in tune with winter’s implicit message that down time is important. Winter is nature’s way of regrouping, a hibernation from duty, a long rest before burgeoning into spring with renewed energy. We mortals could do well to follow nature’s pattern now and then, allowing ourselves some ebb and flow, some time to refill the well, rather than ceaselessly demanding maximum performance and output, draining our resources to their very dregs and running on “empty.”
It seems I’d do well to stop feeling guilty about being “unproductive,” and give myself permission to be idle. To get up when I wake up, on days when that is possible. To poke around the house, doing this or that just because it catches my eye. To sit and stare at the fire, just because its mesmerizing flames beckon me, heedless of the busy work that comprises my to-do list. Therefore, I hereby give myself permission not only to be unproductive, but also to stop thinking and become wordless.
There’s an irony, here, for we lovers of words. We use words to frame our thoughts, but they also get in the way of true knowing as they clutter our monkey minds with unfocused chatter. Much of what we need to know, of what we long to know, lies beyond words, in a silent, hallowed place of Knowing that is accessible only through the suspension of frenetic activity. Full circle: right smack-dab back to the importance and ultimate usefulness of fallow time.
I am grateful that this urge to slow down has taken hold of me — it is not something I typically am able to pull off, even though I know its value and often try to do so. The blessings are immediately evident. I sense my spirit rearranging itself, sifting through on what’s gone on before and evaluating possibilities for what is to come at an unconscious level. Glimmers of inspiration bubble up from this deep place, guiding me forward in ways that logical consideration cannot. Wordlessness by definition is indescribable, but its effect is unmistakably real, spawning a palpable sense of ease in my body and spirit. For now, I’ll go with that, trusting this fallow time to replenish my spirit and lead me where I need to go. Stay tuned…