We’re halfway through the first month of #365yoga. I feel like I have hit a brick wall. Actually, it’s more of a blank white wall. While it’s not falling from the sky anymore, there is a TON of snow out there. Unlike Nancy, I get tired of the snow pretty easily. I’m a green grass, green trees, flowing creeks kind of girl. I like to go barefoot everywhere and feel the earth under my toes. I need warm sunshine on my face and fresh things blooming. I need birdsong and fireflies and, well, basically every season except winter.
It happens every year. The middle of January comes around and I fall into some cave of quiet numbness until late February or early March. I used to freak out about it. I used to think I needed medications and that something was wrong with me. I used to think it was bad. It’s really none of those things. It’s part of me, part of my inner rhythm. These 6 weeks of quiet and introspection and hunkering down under the blankets and blank mindedness are actually essential to me, I’m starting to realize. It’s not all that fun, but it serves a very important purpose. It is like I am a caterpillar entering a cocoon so that I can emerge a different, evolved, more beautiful creature. It is the blankness that allows my subconcious to filter and file the lessons learned the previous year, allows my body to heal and grow and renew. It allows my mind to be fed inspiration from the Universe itself.
You cannot force things. You cannot rush inspiration. You cannot schedule evolution. It has to unfold naturally in its own time. It’s coming. I can tell it already. It is coming and it’s going to be magnificent, but it’s not quite here yet. So I wait patiently. I wait on my mat, in my seat, on the meditation kneeler that my Dad made for me so long ago. I wait and allow things to happen without my guidance because I realize that I’m not the one running the show just now. I breathe and have faith and wait quietly for the thaw – both inside and out.