A reflection on seasonal living and creative flow: why I’m taking a pause this winter, and what I hope to find.
This year has been a lot of work. A book, a field guide, a launch, and the countdown to each. This week, in my Intentional Creativity class, we talked about the busy brain state, the one that runs on clocks, calendars, and the next deadline. I know it well. I’ve lived in it for months. My weekly and quarterly reviews kept me on track and on time.
Where I Get Stuck
Here’s the part I’m a little embarrassed to admit. Writing is where I get stuck in that busy state. I can move into flow with a paintbrush in my hand. I can get there making soup, when I know what to do and don’t have to think, and it just becomes pleasure. But sit me down at a keyboard and my brain starts producing a never-ending to-do list, even when what I’m writing is about slowing down.
Chronos and Kairos: Two Kinds of Time
In class Shiloh talked about two kinds of time. Chronos is the clock: the kind of time that feels like it’s controlling us, with its countdowns and its endless list. For me, Chronos is also the voice of the critic, keeping me in line, productive, and seemingly safe.
Kairos is something else, a spacious, unhurried time where ideas show up and an hour disappears. What always makes me smile is that Kairos wants to be courted, as does the muse. We do that by consciously choosing it, and the way in is pleasure. It won’t arrive because the calendar and clock say so.
Why I’m Choosing the Pause
That’s why I’m choosing the pause. From November through December, I’m not starting anything new, and I’m not producing anything for anyone else. To be clear, life goes on. I still have work and a house and other obligations. But I’m giving the winter to painting, writing, and moving as much as possible. For me, winter is about slowing down to listen, dream, and nourish myself before spring asks for new-growth energy. But this year winter is about to go deeper.
I’m not sure yet what I’ll find.
I do know that I want to practice moving between brain states instead of living mostly in one, busy when it’s time to be busy and open when it’s time to be open. And to dance with the muse on a regular basis. And to simply be curious about what shows up — because something will.
Warmly,
Suzanne
Join me as I write about rewilding, embodied living, and the inner work each week on Substack.
If you’re curious about the work behind this season, you’ll find Rewilding Yourself book & Rewilding Field Guide here.
