Hey Pinkies,

Joy here. I’m itchy. I’m antsy. I’m out of sorts. I don’t know where to put my energy. I’m ungrounded. Can’t land. I’m sitting in fascination of this unique heartspace, knowing that it is transient and necessary, but until yesterday, I didn’t quite get what it was.

Taking My Own Advice

For a month or more, I’ve been giving the same speech to clients, to friends, and to fellow Pinkies. Hells, I’ve even written it out. It goes a li’l’ something like this:

It’s winter. Our bodies are in hibernation mode. It’s time to slow down, relax, renew. It’s so ironic that the holiday season has us go-go-going when all our bodies want to do is stop for a few minutes. Honor your body and allow for that rest. Give yourself permission to stop and be in the stillness.

During the month of December, I took my own advice – to a certain extent. I fed myself more, didn’t move around as much, stayed tucked up under blankets with furry creatures and tea, introspected, and withdrew a bit from the world.

Not So Fast

Little did I know, though, that I was still going. While my body may not have been in constant motion, my energy certainly was. I had an early January deadline to turn in a final project for school. There were powerful intentions to be set for the coming year, and room to be cleared in my soul and in my space, and the next phase of life to plot.

New Year’s Eve was spent cleaning, clearing and burning sage in anticipation of the new. Then, after spending last week adding the finishing touches to my project, I turned it in this week. A year’s worth of work complete and out of my hands at last.

So Why Don’t I Feel Free?

Yesterday, I spoke to one of my teachers. I told her about the strange feeling I was experiencing – not at all the giant exhale of “everything’s fine now” I had been expecting, but rather this odd combination of emptiness and restlessness. A displaced energy. A wanting and needing to move forward coupled with a sense that I’m not doing or accomplishing anything. (Plus, despite all the intentions and plans, I don’t even really know what to do.)

She said, “For the past year, you’ve been moving toward something, and now that something is behind you.” She went on to invite me to stop – really stop – and acknowledge this. To be with the feeling, and just to be. She reminded me (like I’ve been reminding everyone) that it is natural to pause. Invited me to go outside and take in what she called the “specific beauty” of a winter garden – see how necessary it is to rest in order to regenerate. Though everything and everyone else appears to be ramping back up, it is, in fact, still winter, and I’ve only just now stopped.

My Time To Pause

The profound forward motion of the past year, the planning and revving, and this week’s return of people to town, to work, and to life, all gave me the sense that I should be part of the rush. I thought I had taken my break with the rest of the world in December. I thought I had slowed with the waning of the days, and that now it was time to wake back up. I thought.

However, despite what I’d believed so firmly up until 24 hours ago, the New Year does not necessarily equate with new beginnings or renewed energy. Not for everyone. Certainly not for me. It’s still winter, and the days are still dark. And only now have I been given a moment to pause. No wonder I feel so out of sync.

So, I am finally taking my own advice and owning the stillness. Just for a little while, I’m going to allow myself to stop avidly pursuing what I’m not yet ready to live, and haven’t even necessarily identified (not with my whole being anyway).

Where Does the New Year Find You?

So with this decade still in its infancy, I wonder, have you paused to notice how much of the natural world is still at rest? Do you feel in harmony with this, or has the New Year brought with it a sense of renewed energy for you? Are you, like me, feeling a bit skewed, or skipping energetically amidst the still-wilted flowers?

Wherever you are, it’s all good – and don’t worry, you won’t be getting any more speeches on the topic from me.

Patiently waiting in the pause,

Joy