Trees hundreds of years old allow the natural order of things to unfold with the changing seasons. Colder air and receding daylight tell the tree to prepare for winter by drawing inward. The tree does not hesitate to transform its vibrant green foliage into pigments of gold before releasing each leaf from the hold of its branches. It does not hope for another flowering or bloom. Instead, it knows a different life- a life of non-doing where it wants nothing. The tree understands how to rest in the simplicity of its being without striving to meet expectations or demands. It moves with the seasons, and winter directs the tree into stillness.
In the early stages of fall, the tree knows it is time to withdraw water from its buds to protect them from the colder months ahead. It knows how to cozy up in the warmth of its bark while slowing down its metabolism and internal process to conserve energy. The warmer days of spring will naturally reverse these processes without any unnecessary efforts of the tree so it can once again grow, flower, and bloom. But for now, the tree knows not to think ahead to these warmer days when its bark will delight in dispersing heat from the abundant source of sunlight. It is not time for each twig holding buds of small, wrapped packages of potential to flower into exquisite beauty. Winter’s purpose is to prepare the tree for another growing season of new life by taking rest. It is the natural order of things.
Perhaps humans, too, should allow the qualities of the changing seasons to direct our lives. Like the tree, we require a season of rest, space, and inactivity. This time for dormancy allows new inner seeds of creativity and inspiration to take root before blossoming outward into our lives. There is a time to open fully and display our growing vibrancy of deep green before transforming into shades of gold. But there is also a time for release and retreating. There is a place in our lives to lie dormant rather than remain in forced doing. There is a time to withdraw from our senses and allow the warmth of stillness to insulate us from within.
As we move into the shortest day of the year, I hope you allow yourself this time to snuggle up into the warmth of your inner dwelling as the trees rest under blankets of snow. Each passing day brings the potential for increased daylight and the chance for sprouting life to unfold. But for now, let yourself lie dormant, which means to be in a state of rest, inactivity, or temporary cessation of growth or development. Take comfort in the non-doing and rejoice in the experience of being rather than striving to bloom.
