nature's big pause

I cut the grass this afternoon. The sun was out, the remnant autumn leaves littered the yard and driveway. I didn’t really need to because at this time of year nothing is growing very much, but it just seemed the best way to spend an hour. And I thought about the season we’re in right now and wondered what it is inviting.

It makes sense that we have our long holiday breaks in the summer, when we can enjoy the long days and warm weather. That’s our way right? Endless summer days and beach rituals. But as I’ve been pondering the seasons and impending winter solstice, I wonder how our lives would be different if we celebrated the winter solstice in the yule tradition. (Of course, this is a southern hemisphere question!)

Imagine if we had a week off where we paused from our go go go. Imagine if (like many of us were forced to do during the pandemic lockdowns) we bunkered down and went slow, reconnecting with ourselves, our loved ones and the things that matter. Imagine if it was the norm to reset, to think, to take a break from information overload, to take a break from screen entertainment and to embrace the discomfort of sitting with our own awkward thoughts, fears and hopes. To regenerate. Imagine if, as the sun sets on the winter solstice we had resolved some of our inner disquiet and just as the sun rises on the next day to begin its journey toward the summer solstice, we similarly began to build toward the next expression of who we are and more clarity on what our’s is to do in the world, our own seasonal spiralling toward integrity.

In the immortal words of Darryl Kerrigan, you can tell me “I’m dreaming.” That seasonal ritual is so far from our current practice that it is fanciful to imagine. In my little community we will celebrate the solstice. It will be about cold water dipping and hearty meals. Awesome, such fabulous fun. But like so often in our busy, active, impoverished way of being, we will miss the reflective moment. We will celebrate, we will do the good frivolity thing and we’ll garnish it with feasting, but I suspect we’ll miss the chance to immerse our souls in the rhythms of nature and learn to be in sync with the seasonal shift.

This current week is a significant one for me because it’s not. There’s not much on, and to be honest, it’s coincidental rather than by design. The smattering of commitments through the week have given me a chance to slow down, and it coincides with the ending of some work that has kept me somewhat occupied for a few months. The next thing awaits. The next thing includes a new grandchild. The next thing includes some new work. The next thing will include a later than usual migration north to Bruns. It is beautifully coincidental that this time of hiatus, this big pause, coincides with the solstice. And happily, we’re in the middle of a sequence of the coldest, clearest full moon mornings imaginable. So I’m buried in it. My body, mind and soul are deep in the magic.

One the one hand, the winter solstice invites us to bunker down, to regenerate for the next thing. On the other, embracing the season means being outdoors. Fires, cold water swimming, puffer and beanie sunset walks. And even when it’s cool and doesn’t need it, cutting the grass worked for me too.