Everything Has A Season

My car has petrol in it.  This wouldn’t be remotely newsworthy except for the fact that it runs on diesel, and it seems to be a bit of a mystery as to how it got there.  My husband who is now in Ireland was the last person to put fuel in it, and he is sure he went to the same diesel pump that he always goes to.  And the fuel receipt which we always keep, and which might shed a little light on the matter, is nowhere to be found.

Once I got over the annoyance, the frustration, and the panic at what it might cost to fix it, I sat down on the sofa with a cup of tea, smiled at the irony of it all an said to the Universe “Ok, you win!”

I am currently in between seasons.  That place between ending one life chapter and beginning another.  And I am restless.  I want to ‘get going’.  But all signs point to staying exactly where I am because whatever is taking form within my being for this next stage is not quite ready yet.

The world outside my window seems to be reflecting this back to me.  Spring appears to have retreated, while winter has returned and is making her presence felt once again. It’s cold and wet and everything is squidgy.  It was fun for a while after the parchedness of summer, but during the week, I heard myself saying “I’m over it”.  I may be over winter, but she is not done with me.

I know the theory.  Everything has a season.  Surrender and be present to the process as it takes time to integrate and for something new to grow. Don’t rush the ripening.

Which is a lovely theory except it was making me really angsty (and if you were to ask my husband, I think he would probably say grumpy as well!) because I was resisting the ripening, I didn’t want to be still.

Being still meant sitting with how I was feeling, which was really restless and uncomfortable in my skin.  It felt like something was squirming inside me pushing against the edges of my being.  So I distracted myself.  I got busy, I baked cakes, and of course, I ate them.

Until the Universe had it’s way with me and quite literally stopped me and my car in it’s tracks.  So I’ve been sat at home in front of the fire, while the rain and the snow and the thunder and lightning and a dense fog for good measure have been having a rare old time outside.  And here is what I have realised.

I had swapped willingness for wilfulness.

I was trying to force my will on my desires and control the outcome, instead of being a willing co-creator with life.  And when I am wilful rather than willing, I squeeze out the possibility of one of the things I love most. Magic!

We have to leave space for magic.  Without it life becomes very mundane, and hard and exhausting.

I had forgotten that if I do my bit, the introspection, the shedding, the integration, the planning and preparing that I have to leave space for the Universe to do its.  If the creative force of the Universe can give life to millions of different plants and species, and can create planets and put them into orbit, well then surely, it can point me in the direction of my next step. If I allow it to do so.

I was reminded that the Universe comes up with far more interesting and fun ideas than I ever could, left to my own devices.  (Living in a medieval village in southern Italy with my hubby and our dogs, in place that makes my heart sing, being one prime example!). My mind could not have come up with that.  I just followed the trail of crumbs laid down before me by the Universe and voilà, here we are!

So I am surrendering (eventually) to the ripening.  Acknowledging that I am pregnant with new energy and ideas but that it is not quite time to give birth to it all just yet.  And I am reminding myself that the magic is always available, my job right now, is to make myself available to the magic.  And remember that everything really does have a season.

With love from the ripening,

Catherine  xo

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