In the depths of winter, I bundle myself up into a cozy ball of warmth. I layer long johns under all my clothes and wrap my toes snug in wool socks, tucking them inside my trusty blundstones whenever I head out into the cold. I use the tools around me to ensure my needs are cared for, I set myself up for success.
In the summer, it’s the same, only different. I fill my bathtub with cool water for lingering soaks and pull on breezy linen dresses and slip into birkenstocks before I head out the door.
Different tools for a different season.
Seasons of life are a little more nuanced. When I’m in a season of momentum and collaboration, I reach out to friends and colleagues, scheduling dinners and dates. I plan workshop after workshop and invite 20 strangers into my home. I make sure I have all I need to thrive, with moments of private calm to regain my energy and rituals of care to keep me grounded in the swirling days.
In a season of quiet, it’s the same, only different. I allow myself time to be alone and turn down invitations without guilt. I prioritize self reflection and introspection. I recognize my lack of output may mean less income at the moment, but acknowledge it as a necessary investment in myself and in the long run. I meditate and take myself to see art and write and enjoy long, lingering walks.
Different tools for a different season.
I can usually figure out which season I’m in based on what I’m feeling and the world around me - what my body tells me about the opportunities at my doorstep. I lean in and listen closely to work out what tools to reach for.
And yet. These past few weeks, I’ve felt suspended in time, unsure of what my soul needs or which tools to grab for. My past feels a little blurry and I can’t quite picture what’s ahead. The future is unclear for everyone, all the time - I know. If your future looks crisp, you aren’t leaving room for the spontaneous beauty of life to unfold (and you’re not being fully truthful with yourself)! And also, my future feels particularly fuzzy to me in this precise moment. I’m uncomfortable and fidgety and my jaw is tense and I’m beating myself up for not being more grateful for the bounty of good in my life. I’m sure it’s no surprise to hear that these thoughts aren’t serving me.
So I make a little space for reflection - I write my morning pages, pull my tarot cards, let my hands play with clay - to help guide me through this strange season I’ve folded myself into.
All the tools I’m turning toward keep telling me to relax! Be quiet, look inward; slow down, take a beat. The desert is where you’ve always gone - since you were four years old! - to quiet your mind and reorient yourself. Isn’t that why you brought yourself here? Stop trying so goddamn hard to force everything into place before it’s ready. Everything unfolds right on time - allow it.
And so, I surrender fully to this wobbly, quiet season. I will practice patience and grace. I will let my shoulders down, loosen my jaw, close my eyes, and look inward. I will be honest with myself. This season may feel a little more uncomfortable than most, but the quiet ones often are. I remind myself, I remind us all, that seasons are never static.
I encourage you to ask yourself: What season do you find yourself in? What tools can you reach for to make sure you are cared for - to set yourself up as best you can?
Wishing us all space to reflect on the season we’re in.
May we find the most beneficial tools to care for ourselves and our needs in this moment.
May we gather the strength to weather tough seasons, and hold the wisdom to relish in lovely ones.
** I have a small handful of spaces for new clients in my psychotherapy practice, including EMDR therapy! You can find out more here and schedule a free consult here. **
⋰ artist website
⋰ therapist website
⋰ instagram
⋰ email: grace@cadywest.com