The productivity of stillness


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The inner is foundation of the outer
The still is master of the restless

The Sage travels all day
yet never leaves his inner treasure

~Lao Tzu

Dear Reader,

If I had any doubts, my garden duty shift was complete; this week’s arrival of a thick blanket of snow made it clear. Unlike the earlier flurries, this has some staying power, and the single-digit night temps will ensure that is true. This glistening white covering may have closed the door to the garden, but it highlights the opportunity to travel inwards that arrives each winter.

At this threshold of a fourth New England winter, I arrive with a sense of the expected cadence and, equally important, its impact on me. The initial days of a forced slowdown and a loss of physical engagement can feel like a void. This year I take note of the equal measures grief and relief. The mix stems from an age-old wound of abandonment. Has my wise teacher taken a sabbatical, leaving me on my own? Holding that thought up for closer examination, the belief quickly unravels before my eyes.

Far from deserting me, my mentor is simply modeling the reason for this season. Edged in white, long limbs, bare of adornment, the trees stand tall, their form exposed, and essence unwavering.

Their shrubby neighbors, having shirked their cover, show off their true gnarly shapes. To their right and left, the diverse herbaceous layer generously offers what remains of stems and seed heads to small creatures in need of shelter and food. Laid bare, cloaked in stillness, these sentient beings pause.

The final weeks of fall create a spaciousness for winter's arrival outdoors and within. There is room to poke around. In the garden and the forest, what was camouflaged with overgrowth for months on end is now in the open. Void of natural shelter, the wildlife burrow down, venturing out only when necessary. Within, stilled from activity, the shadows have also lost their cover.

Curious to learn more about this dormant time, I see that trees cycle through three stages of dormancy. Now long passed, the first stage of dormancy, early rest, begins in late summer. Leaf drop or senescence begins with the intention to reduce water needs and prevent loss of limbs under the weight of accumulated snow and ice.

The second stage, happening now, is called winter rest. Within this period, outward growth ceases. If it were to continue, the water inside a tree’s cells would expand and damage the cell walls. Instead, trees initiate three cellular-level changes that keep the living cells from freezing. In case you think this stage is only about rest and conservation, it actually plays a vital role in the tree’s next growth cycle. The accumulated energy reserves provide the fuel for spring growth.

The after-rest or post-dormancy, begins when daytime temperatures increase, sap rises, and trees prepare to "wake up". A first outer sign is a change in the leaf buds that have been present all winter. You will note a fuller shape as they prepare to open, initiating the next season of growth.

Although distinct, the shift between these three phases is gradual and often goes unnoticed. Despite the many metabolic and developmental processes happening, the outward appearance remains relatively stable. I'll be asking myself how I might aspire to model this or the many other qualities of the largest, oldest living organisms on our planet.

Aligning more closely with nature’s microseasons has helped me recognize and accept my own subtle shifts. If you are new to this focus, consider beginning by simply tracking a nearby tree stand. If you feel more adventurous, you can expand beyond to include the transits and cycles of the sun, moon, and stars. I particularly enjoy keeping an eye on Mother Nature, with a particular focus on the heavens. Having a friend or two to share your discoveries is a treat. I am fortunate for Lois, Christine, and Anastasiia, who share my passion and desire to play with ideas. We record our conversation so you too can follow along. If you haven’t tapped into them yet perhaps the slowing down and invitation inward of this season will provide you with the opportunity, you'll find the links below.


Until next week,

Ready to Ship!

Explore the Sun Transits

Sagittarius Season

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Field Notes from Lauren

I began expressing my big Cancer emotions through writing at a very young age. For me, the unique act of writing is what allows me to process and evolve fully . Today, my weekly missives follow themes that weave between the literal fields of my work in the Gemmo Forest, our family homestead garden, and the energy field we all experience. My life now follows the rhythm of the land. From spring through fall, I can be found outdoors, hands in the dirt, working alongside her husband, Joachim, to tend our 7,500-square-foot family garden or with local volunteers caring for Gemmo Forest. When the cold sets in and the fields rest, I return indoors, where I rekindle my love of writing by the wood stove, always with my faithful calico, Ruby, curled close by.

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