In many ways, the last year and a half have been tough for me. It all started with the end of a 5 year relationship, which kicked off a very intense season of mourning. When I was finally feeling ready for my personal “springtime”, and started feeling myself coming back to life, I met Noah. After a short but exhilarating romance, we found out I was pregnant. The first trimester was…gah. It was intense.
During my pregnancy, I often found it very difficult to see things from a higher and more holistic perspective – something that has long been a point of personal pride and has helped me feel connected with myself, others, and life. Upsetting things in my life and in the world just felt bad and wrong, and I struggled to find the peace that comes with seeing things from a broader and more integrated perspective.
Because I was struggling, I often felt uninspired and un-creative.
I remember sitting on the couch, eating ice cream at 2pm, and crying about my lack of creativity to Noah, “I feel like the magic is broken! I just don’t feel like myself.” And I didn’t.
I knew myself to be mostly creative, focused, optimistic, inspired, and able to shift my emotional states. I did not know the woman on the couch.
Some very wise friends reminded me that it was natural that I felt lacking in outward creative flow; I was engaged in one of the most creative acts of humankind: making a baby. And while I could understand that rationale, I found it so difficult to be patient with the journey.
I wanted to turn things around and make the magic happen.
But I was in a period of quiet, and the more I fought the quiet, the more I struggled.
Life was calling me to surrender into quiet space,
to nest-in and learn to embrace the darkness more deeply,
to learn to trust that life would not only support me, but also my child,
to allow the muse to find me in her time,
to allow creativity the space to flow.
It was no longer my springtime; it was winter.
The “winters” in our lives, when the last things have ended and the new things are yet to be, are powerful opportunities to trust that eventually, “spring” will come.
The quiet times in life ask us to trust that space is not simply fallow emptiness, but rather a fertile void.
And that trust can be hard to hold. Especially when we sense what spring will bring…
- I’ve known for 3+ years that something big was coming for me – a new course that showed me its first tendrils of being in a meditation. Over the last 3 years, I tried everything I could conceive of to see this course more clearly. To understand its structure. To start creating it.
- For the last year, I’ve known that another new offering was brewing. But nothing I was doing was helping me see it more clearly.
These offerings weren’t ready for me, or perhaps I wasn’t ready for them. Either way, it just wasn’t our time.
Knowing that they were brewing, but not being able to force creativity was tough, but I had to let go…into the quiet…into the void. And listen. And of course, a few weeks ago – back in meditation – the creativity started flowing again in full force, and these offerings have come clearly into focus. (I’ll be sharing about one of them next week 🙂
When we surrender into space & learn to trust quiet, the truth will emerge and creativity will flow.
SOME QUESTIONS TO SUPPORT THE JOURNEY:
What do I mistrust about quiet times?
What am I avoiding and afraid to look at?
What if this silence is the fertile void, a chance to listen, explore, create anew?
What is the lesson here? What is life wanting to show me?
What do I really, truly desire?
What do I need to support me in the meantime?
Where do I need to put my focus in the meantime?
These questions helped me allow the ebb in my creative flow, and now that new things are emerging for me, I am so grateful I made space for the quiet. My winter was wild and wonderful in so many ways, and I’m thrilled to be back in my spring.
–––> In the comments below, share what “season” you are in right now, and how you’ve navigated a winter in your life.