When I was a "productive" member of society (read: worked outside the home, as a middle school teacher), the approach of this time of year was terrifying. I hated going in to work in darkness, and driving back home in darkness. Only the weekends seemed bright and alive. Everything else felt like it took place in a cave. I felt like I was in a cave, trapped.
Now that I'm a stay at home mom and farmer, and not productive in a wage economy sense, I find that I'm not scared of the shorter days, that I'm more selective about what I choose to get done, and the work is more enjoyable when imbued with discernment.
I fight the changing of seasons every year – and when I say seasons, I really mean the changing of time. Losing an hour of light during the evening feels more like 3 hours…even though I haven’t lost anything, I still have 24 hours every day. Still…I have a battle with darkness every year. My mind tells me I need more light, more time, more, more, more… But I’m beginning to figure out something significant – the darkness brings me life. My spirit self wakes up…and all the distractions I embrace when the light forms the majority of the day vanish… The darkness of the season ushers in spiritual minimalism – everything seems simple…everything comes to light in the darkness.
Yes, it would be much better for me to slow down and enjoy this season. I think as a teacher, I have always struggled to do just that because it is always a busy season for me as I prepare for the end of a semester. Once I became a mom, that just intensified. I love this reminder, however.
Maybe for the first time in my life, I'm embracing the shorter days by allowing myself to relax more in the evenings, go to bed earlier, and light candles. I read a post yesterday that brought me even more peace about this season:
"A friend who entered a convent told me once how she loves this season for its starkness. You can see all the squirrels’ nests, all the branches on every tree, she told me. I like how fall strips everything down to its essentials. Religious life brings its own living close to the bone. Vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Choosing less than what the world deems worthy.
...There is beauty in the bare and barren places, too. Not only for what they will become, but what they are today: witnesses of the essentials we need and nothing more."
When I was a "productive" member of society (read: worked outside the home, as a middle school teacher), the approach of this time of year was terrifying. I hated going in to work in darkness, and driving back home in darkness. Only the weekends seemed bright and alive. Everything else felt like it took place in a cave. I felt like I was in a cave, trapped.
Now that I'm a stay at home mom and farmer, and not productive in a wage economy sense, I find that I'm not scared of the shorter days, that I'm more selective about what I choose to get done, and the work is more enjoyable when imbued with discernment.
I fight the changing of seasons every year – and when I say seasons, I really mean the changing of time. Losing an hour of light during the evening feels more like 3 hours…even though I haven’t lost anything, I still have 24 hours every day. Still…I have a battle with darkness every year. My mind tells me I need more light, more time, more, more, more… But I’m beginning to figure out something significant – the darkness brings me life. My spirit self wakes up…and all the distractions I embrace when the light forms the majority of the day vanish… The darkness of the season ushers in spiritual minimalism – everything seems simple…everything comes to light in the darkness.
Yes, it would be much better for me to slow down and enjoy this season. I think as a teacher, I have always struggled to do just that because it is always a busy season for me as I prepare for the end of a semester. Once I became a mom, that just intensified. I love this reminder, however.
Maybe for the first time in my life, I'm embracing the shorter days by allowing myself to relax more in the evenings, go to bed earlier, and light candles. I read a post yesterday that brought me even more peace about this season:
"A friend who entered a convent told me once how she loves this season for its starkness. You can see all the squirrels’ nests, all the branches on every tree, she told me. I like how fall strips everything down to its essentials. Religious life brings its own living close to the bone. Vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Choosing less than what the world deems worthy.
...There is beauty in the bare and barren places, too. Not only for what they will become, but what they are today: witnesses of the essentials we need and nothing more."
https://open.substack.com/pub/laurakellyfanucci/p/to-live-close-to-the-bone?r=5apie&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web