Whisperings from the trees...
Musings and moments from a grey day in January...
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Hello lovely one
How is your body feeling today? How are you nurturing your tenderest parts?
I am tentatively poking my head out of my inner winter cocoon and I write this (on Monday) feeling a little wrung out having sat on the floor outside sobbing while my littlest one has yet another intense emotional meltdown.
I know I am ‘meant’ to be her calm in these moments, and most of the time I am, but every now and then (particularly at challenging parts of my cycle) I can’t quite hold it steady and my tears, and hers, seem to merge.
Rather than shame myself for this very human response, I now see it (mostly) as yet another call for self compassion and mothering of my self. Despite feeling at moments like I am failing her when I cannot seem to soothe the intensity of these expressive moments, I also know that I am doing my best.
I am still learning how to hold such big feelings (hers and mine) and there is learning and practice in that journey. I cannot always get it ‘right’.
Whatever you do, and however you are feeling today… I urge you to go lightly…
I am working gently on another Human Design piece to share with you, but as that takes shape slowly and lovingly, there is such an outpouring of nature-inspired words that seem to want to be brought to form. So I am honouring that urge to weave the whisperings of our great Mother to these pieces in total trust that the time will come when other topics rise to the surface…
These words are coming through in the form of storytelling, while they aren’t necessarily my normal ‘style’ I am really enjoying the creativity of them, and I hope that they bring a sense of connection to the simple beauty of our daily experiences, and of course to the outside world.
Going where the creative urge is, is just one of the ways that I bring together both a sense of sacred structure (through devoting myself to a rhythm with my writing) WHILE ALSO honouring both my Strategy (to respond) and my Authority (sacral) in Human Design. It often means a change of ‘plan’, but when I honour the body based sensations that rise up and let my environment provide me with opportunities to respond to, it brings a joyful experience and a much more aligned creation. If you haven’t yet explored Human Design you can read my foundations post here and you might also enjoy this rich conversation I had recently with
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Waking rituals
It’s early Saturday morning. The darkness still sits outside our window. I light candles, place a tray of oats and apples to bake in the oven, turn soft music on and prepare a cup of cacao.
My daughters are creating a tea party on my favourite soft blanket, plates of wooden biscuits and cakes served to dolls and teddies (and me!) offered alongside tin cups of tea (and according to my youngest warm beer!!).
I sit down heavily on my sofa and sink into the cushions behind me, both hands cradling my favourite mug as I inhale the heavenly aroma of purest chocolate. Sip by sip I let the bitter elixir, and the spirit of Mama Cacao, make her presence known to my internal landscape. In this moment there is nothing I would rather be doing. This really is IT.
Beckoned by the skies
Light begins to seep into the room through the sides of the blinds and, knowing this will be my only opportunity for solo time outside today, I pull boots on over my thick socks and a jumper and coat over my pyjamas.
My feet know the way.
A blanket of pale grey smothers the sky and a part of me doesn’t really want to step outside into it. While I see beauty in nature in all weathers, I also feel quite suffocated by the denseness of this toneless expanse that lingers over my head.
It feels like it has been grey for days and I can’t deny that this doesn’t bring a sense of sombreness to my heart. The sky screams melancholy to me and I don’t want to embrace that feeling. I am not sure I know how to.
Nevertheless… I know that nature will have something for me. Some medicine. Some tonic. She always does.
The crystalline beauty of last week’s icy snap has long since faded and in its place is an almost monochrome landscape. Lacking the ethereal mystical quality of sparkling frost and piercing blue skies, bringing instead a softness and sense of calm that makes stillness feel more accessible.
Mirroring the seasons
I’m day 6 of my cycle… and I feel an emptiness overcoming me as the last trickles of blood leave my womb.
When I tried to write this morning there was nothing… no sparks of inspiration, no deep explorations… just… emptiness. On some level this brought a sensation of irritation, frustration and discomfort but it was also a beautiful reminder of the nature of cycles.
How can it be that just a week ago I felt brimming with insight and dreams and visions, and yet today… nothing…?
I find when my own inner cycle mirrors the seasons in the outside world it supercharges the messaging. Do you feel that too?
As I edge out of my inner winter and enter that in-between void space before spring starts to show up, it’s only natural that right now, as nature takes baby steps closer towards lighter days and the first very, very tiny signs of spring, I should feel this season in such a deep and embodied way.
Seeking space
Recently I’ve been pulled more to walking through the open expanse of the fields as opposed to round the edges of the lake… there is something so liberating about the space and yet also so grounding about the covering of earth. Hedgerows filled with unseen secrets line the fields and give me a container to be held within.
As I tread the passageway from the field up through the woodland that ends at the back of our home, I stopped to bask at the beauty of so many intertwining cross crossing shades of darkness. Branches, twigs, tree trunks, thorns and bushes… something about their starkness at this time of year reminds me of possibility to come.
My favourite quote rings in my ears… ‘when nothing is certain, anything is possible…’
Whisperings from the trees
I trace my finger tips across the trunks of each tree as I pass them. Caressing their folds and textures and feeling a sense of ease at each touch. A whisper escapes from my mouth as I pass each one… thank you… thank you… thank you…
In the absence of my own desire for contemplation, I ask the trees out loud… ‘what would you have me know right now?’
There is nothing other than the sound of my feet landing on earth with a softness due to the damp, but not sodden ground.
Quiet. Perhaps that is all I need right now.
I keep walking up the hill, feeling my glute muscles activate and a welcome ache spill over them as my legs have to work a little harder to propel me upwards.
Then soft whispers emerge in my awareness…
This is it.
What is it?
This. Just this.
Of course, I smile and laugh to myself.
But then perhaps most importantly…
And This… is enough.
The grey skies above me. The cold earth beneath me. My daughters, with full bellies after a hearty warm breakfast await me at home. The cold air fills my lungs as I breathe in deeply and I am reminded that I can only be alive in this moment. Just in this one breath.
And what a privelege and an honour it is to have the gift of this cold, grey, monotone, and yet oh so precious day.
A rememberance of all that really matters.
This is enough.
We are enough.
You are enough.
Something to steady
In these fallow seasons of in-between — sometimes they are long periods, sometimes mere days — it can feel disconcerting to be in a space of nothingness.
Ideas aren’t pouring.
Emptiness feels suffocating.
Even if we know on a cognitive level that it is OK to be in periods of non-doing… the body doesn’t always feel at ease.
In a world that celebrates us for the actions we take and the creations we bring to life, it can feel unsettling to be in a period of nothingness. Despite my familiarity with these inner seasons I still have to stay very present to support myself through them, the desire to force for answers or action steps can be overwhelmingly strong.
When our sense of self is based on ‘doing/productivity/action’ it can make us feel so very lost when the capacity or desire to ‘do’ is not there.
And so, the question I return to in every void season, is…
What do I know to be true right now?
When we focus our attention on all that we don’t know it can compound that sensation of being lost. If we can reframe our situation and focus on all that we do know — even if those things are very simple practical things — it brings a sense of stability and steadiness to the wobbly, uncertain and undulating ground.
I would love to hear from you if any of this piece resonates on any level, or if you have any beautiful words of wisdom to share from your own experience.
Until next time
With so much love and gratitude
Lauren
xxx
Hello to anyone who is new here… I am Lauren. A Mother of two daughters, Writer, Women’s Circle Facilitator, Sacred Business Mentor & Guide, Soul Branding & Website Creator and multi-dimensional human being. I walk with, and hold space for, others who are treading the tender path of their heart and soul work. You can find out more about this space and what to expect here. If you wish to be held in a deeper way do consider joining The Balm membership for restorative practices, sacred heart work offerings and more…
If you enjoyed this piece and wish to explore my other spaces please use the links below to explore…
Motherhood Essays
Self-Tending Practices
The Unravelling Podcast
Sacred Living
Work With Me
✨✨💙 beautiful reflections
This was beautiful Lauren. Thank you for the reminder that being under the blanket of a grey winter's day is enough, and more. I love how you opened yourself up to the trees and received their wisdom. They always seem to know the answers. Thank you also for the reflection on the void/in-between, it is so easy to feel restless in that space and I am grateful for the prompt about what we know to be true. I have also just ordered cacao on your recommendation, your slow mornings with cacao sound magical, I hope to emulate soon! xx