And Just Like That, Winter Reminds Us of the True Nature of Change
Four days ago, the sunlight filtering through my kitchen window was so bright, and the signs of spring so prominent, that I was convinced I would soon be putting my heavy coat away until next winter.
It happens every single year in the same way.
The days begin growing longer, the snow melts, we have some “unseasonably warm” weather and begin to see this shift as a sign that we will indeed be enjoying an early spring this year.
Finally! Warm weather is here! We deserve it’s early arrival after the harsh cold months we’ve had to endure!
And then just like that, the sound of snow plows permeates the silence of the night sky and I wake to the disorienting feeling of seeing six inches of white piled outside my back door. Tree branches drooping under the wet and heavy snow. Nary a birdsong to be heard anywhere.
Winter is back with a vengeance today and it seems that no matter how much I turn the thermostat up, the chill in the house will not budge.
This is an annual occurrence, and yet somehow it still seems unusual and shocking. As if this newly fallen snow is the unseasonable weather and not the warmer temps from a week ago. But a look back over the years tells me that indeed this is a yearly pattern of weather behavior, even with the realities of climate change and a steadily warming planet.
Spirals have been making an appearance in my work lately. Circles of textiles, paper, found objects, paint, and all manner of artistic expression revealing something to my conscious mind, that my subconscious/intuitive mind is working out, even before I identify it as a pattern in my work.
Words tease at my imagination in the studio, speaking to the potential meaning. Rising to the surface of my thinking mind, as I piece together and contemplate this circular design making another appearance in whatever it is I happen to be making. I write them down as I work and continue to listen for the deeper meaning:
Unraveling
Unraveled
Tangled
Untangled
Circle
Circling back
Circling around
Cycles
Cyclical
Seasons
Transitions
Opening
Spiral
Spiraling
Spiraling up
Spiraling out
I start to consider whether they are a reflection of my spiraling insecurities flaring up in the transition season I’m in. But then how long do you get to keep calling it a transition season before asking yourself if maybe you’re just stuck?
Listening to the We Can Do Hard Things podcast recently, author and podacast host, Glennon Doyle, shared an anecdote about responding to her teen daughter, who was lamenting over never being sixteen again on her 17th birthday. Glennon talked about how we don’t leave each age behind as we grow older. How we are really more like nesting dolls carrying each age we’ve ever been inside of us.
It made me think of the rings that tell the age of a tree. These rings are visible when the tree is felled, revealing that pattern of ever increasing circles so closely resembling a spiral. Some rings are thicker and darker than others, depending on the conditions of the environment in any given year, marking the passage of each transitional season.
We want so badly for our healing and growth journeys to be steady and progressive. Like waking up to see snow on the ground after a streak of warm days, we convince ourselves that any setback in our progress is unusual.
Unseasonable evidence that we are stuck. Winter will never, ever, ever end.
But seasons of healing and growth, like seasons in nature, are more like a pendulum. We swing back and forth, round and round, between a metaphoric winter and spring. Moving closer to the next season in barely perceptible shifts. Between old thoughts and behavior patterns and the new. Between acceptance of things that we cannot change and panic driven attempts to control. Between the younger, naive, wounded child self and the wiser, experienced, seasoned self.
From letting go. To letting go. To letting go.
Not a spiral.
Merely a cycle.
A season.
A ring.
Bringing us ever closer to our core, most authentic expression of our true self.
Currently on my radar:
Soundtrack for today’s post is a podcast:
an award winning author and poet, guest on the above episode of the We Can Do Hard Things podcast, discussing her new book, Living Resistance: An Indigenous Vision for Seeking Wholeness Every Day.Dr. Ingrid Clayton - Psychologist and author of Believing Me in this clip on Instagram, sharing how she hadn’t recognized that the process of writing about her childhood trauma and healing journey was actually a vital part of her healing journey until she was nearly finished with the book.
Today marks the 3-year anniversary since the last time I traveled to teach a workshop and my excitement is growing for my return to teaching on location. And specifically for this class:
The Art of Physicality is an abstract sculptural exploration of land and identity, featuring techniques I’ve been developing, utilizing the ancient Japanese craft of kneaded paper known as Momigami.
Scraps KC - A creative upcycling center in Kansas City, where you’d likely find just about everything you need for the workshop above. I plan to stop in there for a shopping spree the day before because their instagram feed is a big tease to the artist in me.
Today also marks 1-month since I paused paid subscriptions. I plan to send another post to those subscribers at the paid tier sometime in the next week to share some changes I’ve decided to make, but I won’t be implementing any of those changes until after I return from Kansas City.
Meanwhile, thank you all for being here and continuing to read, like, and comment on these posts. It matters. You matter. And I so appreciate each of you.
With gratitude,
Crystal Marie
Consistent with your far reaching talent, this is another exquisite essay.