Appreciating “Dormant”
By Mary Lloyd
We’ve reached my least favorite month of the year--“dreaded November.” Growing up in Wisconsin, January was the daunting month. But snow and subzero temperatures pale in comparison to what November dishes up in the Pacific Northwest. It’s dark enough to develop photographs at my dining room table at noon and the rain and wind just keep on coming. Ah, November… The perfect time to look at the wisdom of learning to wait.
The gloom and cold and Mother Nature’s nasty fits have sweet purpose for everything in the yard that has either died or gone dormant and for us, as a reminder that resting is an important part of living well.
The “fun” parts of cycles are easy to get used to—the growing, the flowering, the fruit. But this is the time of year that reminds us that things die. The lovely blue lobelia. The crimson leaves of the maple. The zucchini plant (finally!). Quite a lot stops being what it was--some permanently and some until next spring. The idea that “it’s over” is not so uplifting for most of us. But it’s every bit as important in the cycle as the flashier parts.
Nature going dormant reminds us that parts of our lives need to die sometimes, too. Friendships, pastimes, jobs we thought we’d have until we retired. The reasons for the end of each are more complex than with plants. But they have reached that same point in the cycle--an ending. Endings come just slightly before the next beginning if you let them.
Maybe the friend moved away. Maybe the hobby got boring. The person you can’t love anymore may have died in the real sense or just in how you saw him or her. The job—and maybe the whole company—may have gotten eliminated. It’s easy to get comfy with what we like and expect it to go on forever. But that’s the natural progression of things.
Most of us aren’t very good at dealing with these little deaths. Instead of seeing them for what they are--necessary transitions—we dwell on what was, convinced that’s what still should be. Every time we do that, we miss the point, and the chance to savor that quiet time that comes before starting again.
Being still and waiting is not easy in this
age of instant everything. We flip a switch and have light and move from place
to place on seventy-miles-per-hour freeways. We can buy or learn anything we
want at any time of day online. But the downtime that comes when something ends
has lots to offer.
First, of course, we get to rest. But we tell ourselves we don’t have time for
that. This rest is important for more than relieving weary bones though.
Getting clear of what was before you move on to what’s next streamlines the
process in the long run. Letting an idea steep for a while often gives it
additional depth and breadth. Waiting instead of jumping into the next thing as
soon as the last one is finished can give you much needed perspective that makes
it easier to get things to go right once you do get going.
But how do you wait?
With patience. Much as we want to believe we have total control, we don’t. Things happen when they are supposed to not when we think they are supposed to. The simple act of accepting that notion is powerful.
With hope. Wise waiting includes believing that good things are on the way. Getting things to grow involves trusting they will. When you don’t believe what you want, need, and are focused on will come, you keep changing course—sort of like planting different seeds in the same spot the garden every other week.
And with gratitude. Being grateful you’re part of something bigger than your personal timetable is the fast route to serenity. Let life be what it is and you will automatically slow down when the chance presents itself.
Whether it’s kids or carrots, growth is never uniform and consistent. There are spurts and there are plateaus. There are times when you wonder if you really did plant what you thought you did because nothing’s coming up. Respect those times. Let that part of you be dormant. Wait. Trust that growth will come again. That your efforts will bloom and bear fruit.
Even when it’s dark and cold and wet outside, the warm fire of promise burns inside you. That makes resting good.
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Mary Lloyd is a speaker and consultant and author of Supercharged Retirement: Ditch the Rocking Chair, Trash the Remote, and Do What You Love. Her passion is in capitalizing on the potential of those over 50. For more, please visit her website http://www.mining-silver.com. She can be reached at mary@mining-silver.com.
Source: November, 2009 Put Old on Hold Newsletter
Barbara Morris — Image F/X Publications
Barbara@PutOldOnHold.com
© 2009 – Image F/X Publications, All rights reserved
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