Today is a grey day. It’s fairly cold and there’s a dampness in the air. I’ve learnt to love this typically English weather, with it’s half light and bare trees. Even though there is a still flatness in the air which whispers, ‘It won’t be summer for a long time…’
There is a subtlety, when I tune into it. It’s mournful and empty and I can feel my own mournful emptiness. The place where nothing ever happens, where nothing is growing.
And the earth seems to say, ‘Yes, I know that place too, that place is in me too..but look closer, some things are growing and see how the dead leaves are rotting into the earth. See how the stillness makes time for everything to rot down. Come with me, here, take my hand’
And if you are brave enough you will take the earth by the hand. She pull you down into the darkness of her still, empty womb. It’s a strange place to hang out, but it is at least a little warmer here. As your eyes adjust to the darkness you start to see them…the dreams..bright flowers, butterflies, swallows, new life..and dreams for humanity too..millions upon millions of tiny seeds and as you touch each one it opens up. You call out for your own seed and it comes flying to you.
What if this was the original Santa’s sack? The dark belly of the Earth Mother, all full dreams for the coming year.
So now I am trying to stay with the pause, with the empty. Because it is only when we are empty that there is space for the new dreams, the new seeds, to fly in. If I fill up every space, how can the truly magnificent dream of the earth ever reach me.
Breath out, breath in, breath out again. Feel the empty of your body. Feel the empty of the earth. Then trust. As I am seeking to trust, that as long as I’m alive, the next breath will come. The new dream will, in the Spring, unfold.