Seasons Change

For years I lived in a rented Queen Anne, overlooking the Mississippi River. I felt fortunate to have time daily for contemplative nature walks with my dog, and long restorative yoga sessions, with the puppy curled on the recliner while I propped my body in Supine Sukhasana on the futon couch.

I called it my “Do Nothing” practice.

Letting go of agendas—even that ubiquitous urge to self-improve—I breathed into the moment just as it was. I reveled in the beauty of the place I was growing to know so well—Nicollet Island. Great old trees that had stood their ground for more than a century taught me about presence. The migration of myriad winged ones, passing through the flyway, taught me about impermanence.

Sometimes I had too much time on my hands, and I was overcome by feeling the pressures of the dawning 21^st century. I stewed about the start of the Gulf War. When I began to witness the subtle effects of climate change, I mourned the loss of habitat for people, plants and animals. This beautiful Mother Earth, who I was falling deeper in love with—every day—was under siege.

I agonized. What could I do? I was tired; I was afraid; I was hormonal. So much change was happening in my own body.

I needed to bolster my energy. To learn to keep my heart open, during times of change and uncertainty. To deepen my connection with myself. And with the Earth. Change was happening, whether I liked it or not.

So I made myself a student of the flowing river, the resourceful deer, frolicking foxes and mighty eagles, noticing how they adapted to the urban environment. I learned from the seasons’ flux. My personal season was—like late fall—about surrender. Letting go.

Sweet as it was, at the time, I don’t feel a desire to go back. The season has changed in my life, and now it’s time to get out and “Do.” Moving the Be-ing that I cultivated, during those middle years of my life, out into the world.

My work as a Montessori assistant in an inner city elementary school, teaching yoga to adults and children, giving craniosacral therapy and energy work sessions to clients, in addition to being a wife, dog mom, auntie, godmother, daughter of an aging mother and mother-in-law, and friend, make my days very full of activity. If you had told me five years ago that my schedule would be this packed I wouldn’t have believed I could keep up.

What I’m finding, in this season of life, is that bringing the Be-ing into the doing makes it easier to juggle my many roles and responsibilities. I take a deep breath—feeling gratitude in the moment that I am healthy and full of energy to serve—and keep going. My days of filling myself up—from the inside out—have brought me here: to a place where joy seeps over the banks of my heart, like the great, flowing river that has taught me so much about continuing to move along, with ease, downstream.

Tagged as: Be-ing, Do Nothing practice, menopause, Mother Earth, Nicollet Island