Are you feeling your energy shift yet?
Finding your own cyclical rhythms might just provide an escape from the pressure of continually 'starting over'...
I’ve been thinking about the whole ‘new year, new you’ thing beyond January 1. There are various traditions which mark ‘newness’ at different times – from the Celtic Imbolc on Feb 1, and Spring Equinox on 20 March, the Chinese/lunar new year on Feb 17, your birthday… All of these surely point to variance and process; there is no one ‘right time’ to start if we remember that we are part of continuum, cycles within cycles of existence rolling on and around.
Take this a step further and question, do we even need ‘newness’? New shoots spring from old seeds sown, there is a gentle continuum rather than a restart. The obsession with ‘new’ is so ingrained in our collective psyche as part of neoliberal capitalism, to take on the urgency of continual progression, growth and improvement, all placed firmly as the responsibility of each of us as individuals. Be better, faster, more productive, invent, reinvent… Invariably, this means signing up for more expertise, buying more stuff, to fill the cultivated but unfillable void of emptiness and not-enoughness, the ever-pervasive sense of dissatisfaction with the present, what we already have and who we are.
If we felt perfectly satisfied and content with ourselves in this moment, we would be unmarketable to! Yet we might well feel really difficult, embarrassed, guilty, ashamed, even aversive to recognising, admitting and certainly saying out loud, ‘you know what, I’m actually ok as I am’. ‘I’m not making New Year’s resolutions as I’m pretty good already.’ Even writing this, I can hear all the conditioned internal voices: where’s the humility, the modesty? Self-awareness? Do I become an insufferably self-satisfied dickhead if I don’t look to continually improve myself? Sitting still is laziness…
Awareness of where we get stuck, our patterns, can be liberating. Kind intentions can give us direction, impetus, focus, inspiration… Samskaras, in the yoga tradition, are ‘mental formations’, where we have become fixed, even immovable, based on the accumulation of previous experiences. Sometimes this can be energy-efficient (I know this route/path, physically or metaphorically, works or doesn’t for me), but other times we might not explore options that could be more valid for us right now, because we are always subtly changing. When ‘self-improvement’ tips over into dopamine-chasing, always needing something new (whether that’s clothes, people, places, experiences, whole self reboots…) to be happy or feel valid, it’s an unending cycle which rarely leads to deep fulfilment, and can be loaded with self-deprecation.
When the old feels broken
Sometimes we need the hope and promise of newness. Politically, economically and environmentally, most of us feel a desperate call towards alternative narratives right now, present systems being undeniably broken. It can also be that personally we look to the future to deliver us, whether that’s literally from the sludge of Winter’s lightless, cold, wet and short days or from our own internal winters, those challenging, even debilitating times in life when we’re drawn into the void and cling to the dream of sunnier times to pull us through.
Culturally, we don’t generally offer time and respect to periods of darkness. In both seasonal Winter, the winters of menstruation and menopause, and in times of personal bleakness, we’re expected to continue with perpetual velocity, regardless of cyclical shifts in energy and capacity. There is little let-up in pressure and we’re celebrated if we can ‘keep on keeping on’ regardless. Rest is to be hard-won if at all. It’s very awkward, for most Brits especially, to ‘let it all go’, especially in a witnessed way. How many of us feel comfortable crying in front of others, showing vulnerability, not being ‘okay’? How many know the value of rest but still soldier on, feeling guilty for even the briefest of stolen moments of not doing?
No rest = no energy
Without rest, time for quiet reflection and space to process, how are we actually supposed to start anything new energetically? December is a classic example: where we’re most likely burnt out by the busyness of the year, then the pressures of the festive period hit a time of low natural reserves, followed by the expectation of a brand new start, vital new energy and focus for the new year and a brand new version of yourself, shinier than ever. Clearly a construct that doesn’t work!
What’s your rhythm?
A useful enquiry is to recognise the pace at which we expect change to happen: often there is a sense that we have a limited time frame, whether that’s conforming to social norms by particular ages, or being ‘sorted’ by a certain point in life; miss the boat, and you’ve failed. Really? Where do these narratives come from? Are they actually relevant or just unconsciously carried?
As ever, nature might guide us more sensitively: we might be seeing daffodils and snowdrops right now – early ambassadors of the new season – but other growth is still deep underground, the trees are still barren, and many animals are still resolutely in hibernation. There is a natural time for each thing to evolve according to its own natural rhythm.
Perhaps you are an ‘early’ or ‘late’ bloomer, in different ways, but do you need to be judged (most importantly, by yourself!) for going at a pace that’s right for you? For slowing down as much as speeding up, according to life’s ebbs and flows. Maybe you never ‘achieve’ what might be considered ‘full bloom’, but perhaps that message of ‘living your best life’ itself is a trap – how about being just enough, even failing gracefully and learning, messing up again and again… all of these human ways of being surely deserve equal compassion?
See my chat with Kate Codrington, author of Second Spring, in which we explore how a gentler, more rhythmic flow through the year might feel.
And join Kate & I for our two-day retreat ON RECEIVING, March 29 & April 26
Practices to explore newness (or not!):
It’s interesting to note how it actually feels, if you stop and listen in, to practice ‘new start’ rituals?
Journal prompt: What is the difference between intuition and autopilot?
When writing intentions (at any time of year), notice if you really feel them strongly coming through or if you’re struggling to find clarity. Surely this is fine? Sometimes we can put such pressure on ourselves to reinvent the wheel, when perhaps it’s rolling along just fine?
Experientially, in exploring finding alternative practices for our family over Christmas, we discovered a Yule ritual of writing down 13 intentions for the year ahead, burning one each of the 12 days and then bringing energy to the 13th that fate had left unburned. This sounded magical in principle… My adult daughter was left with the Muppets’ ‘do do de do do, me na me na’ as she couldn’t think of 13, and I was left with learn to crochet - perhaps a mocking universal nudge towards doing less?!
Breath meditation
Sit or lie comfortably, with whatever support you need so that you can breathe easefully and fully. Bring your attention right to the start of your inhale, without holding on to it.
How easy/difficult is it to discern the exact start?
Where do you feel it in your body?
Do you get more joy from the beginning than any other part of the breath?
Do you feel sadness at the end of the exhale? Is it difficult to let go in order to make space for the new breath?
How about the beginning of the exhale?
No need to labour or ‘succeed’, this is more a practice of recognising that beginnings are brief, transient, and part of the whole cycle, rather than separate or distinct.