Autumn is passing and in the Northern Hemisphere we are approaching the threshold to winter. The clocks have changed, the days are shortening and soon the darker season will be upon us. Winter is traditionally the season of endings when the trees lose their leaves, many birds leave us to fly south to warmer climes and other creatures go into hibernation. There is also beauty, of course, in the frozen lakes and rivers, in the frosty mornings, in the cosiness of being wrapped up against the cold and perhaps in the sparkling lights of Christmas (for those that celebrate it). What’s more, winter is one seasonal step away from spring when the light, warmth and greenery will return. It is the quid pro quo of Mother Nature: there is no light without darkness; there is no beginning without ending. But still the darkness that winter brings — and the endings that it represents — can be a challenge for many of us and we can struggle at this time of year.
Darkness is very familiar to me. I know the colours, contours, smells and textures of darkness — my own darkness, that is. I know what it feels like for my soul’s lights to go out and for my vitality to trickle away through my own fingers. I have experience of what it’s like to plumb the depths of my own aloneness and to find nothing there. It is unspeakably bleak. And yet, and yet….I know that my inner darkness is also the birthplace of my sensibility, my creativity and my lifeforce. I know that it enables me to accompany my clients into those places. I know that it is as much a sign of my aliveness as the joy and excitement that are on the other side. The metaphorical colour black has a rich and vital place in my experience of being human and I am therefore a reluctant fan of what the poet David Whyte calls “sweet darkness”. It is very much part of the Neon spectrum and while painful, terrifying and more besides, it is an inevitable part of life with as much value as the rest.
After years of practice, I now have a sense of the conditions I need to create to help me ‘see in the dark’. I know — most of the time — how to support myself through these periods when they come. Perhaps — most of importantly — I know that they do not last forever, even though it feels like they will at the time. I also now have an acceptance of the part that darkness plays in my own process of becoming. I know that without crossing the threshold into winter, I cannot get to spring. I know that without feeling the pain, I cannot let it go and find new dreams and beginnings. I know that without feeling the emptiness of solitude, I cannot truly appreciate the fullness of connection and intimacy. And for this reason, I am grateful to the season of winter for the reminders it offers me of these things and the opportunities it provides.
It is time to start preparing for winter. What are the conditions you need to be well during the months ahead? We will be exploring all this and more, in the upcoming winter series of The Art of Becoming for women only. If you would like a spot, message me and book the early bird before 19th November (discounts available).