This Is the Time to Be Slow: Aligning with Nature
Hello nature friends,
As I leave the winter solstice behind and rest in the depths of winter, I find I have been burrowing in, sleeping a little later, and finding myself indoors so much more. Recently, I built a cocoon of covers in my bed, sick with the season’s respiratory illness. On the up side, I had some time to read some good books like “Finding the Mother Tree by Suzanne Simard” and “To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings” by John O’Donohue. This period of pause, rest, darkness and letting go are the premises for new life and a necessary step for the regeneration of life. Just as winter regenerates trees and plants, a little extra sleep regenerates our body and mind. Allowing ourselves to live in rhythm with the earth allows us to thrive. So I’ve been working hard not to berate myself for slowing down and searching for the grace to just be.
At the same time, I already feel a restlessness growing in me as I am looking forward to the return of the growing daylight. As I am cocooning, I am planning some fun new programs for the upcoming spring and summer. Stay tuned for the 2023 spring schedule of mindful outdoor experiences! Or join me on a rejuvenating winter walk as I continue to offer walks throughout this and every season.
In the meantime, I will continue to fall asleep at night to the hoots of the Great Horned owl in our neighborhood. The owl returns each year in November and I like to shut off all the fans and noisemakers in the house when getting ready for bed so I can fall asleep to the deep hooting calls. While I’m snuggled inside with the covers up to my nose, I listen with soft fascination to the eerie yet calming calls of my owl friend. I find the fact that the owl returns every year to the same neighborhood oddly comforting and relax into the dark winter season knowing that the owl courting season will soon be followed by the spring peeper frogs and then the return of the song birds and crickets once again.
This Is the Time to Be Slow by John O’Donohue
This is the time to be slow
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes
Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.
If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.