A STORY OF CHANGING SEASONS

One of the things I love the most about northern Europe is the slow transition of seasons.  Each season carries distinct characteristics, engaging all your senses in the process.  I’d like to say that I have a distinct favourite, but as each cycle flows into the next I catch myself thinking “this is the one” – it never is - because when the time comes for a continuation into something new, the timing feels exactly right, and the newest season becomes my favourite.

Us humans are, of course, part of Mother Nature’s natural cycle of seasons and as we drift from summer to autumn in the northern bit of the globe, I find myself reflecting on my own seasons over the last 5 years.

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By far my most challenging season was moving countries.  It brought me up close and personal to parts of myself (and the ones I love) ranging on the emotional spectrum from scared shitless to euphoria and every nuance in between. Looking back, it’s hard to comprehend the time of Covid and the dozens of extra layers of stress it added to emigrating. We’ve had to clear out possessions and fears, pack up furniture and expectations and endure the most inhumane mountains of administration and emotion. While I was in the thick of it, the forest near our rental home was my refuge.  Through every season I would walk each day, sometimes singing and sometimes screaming. Mother Nature carried me through this harrowing season with a gentle grace and unconditional acceptance, despite the mood she was in.

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As a woman I am currently in a transition season, not dissimilar to Autumn, I guess.  A time when the season is slowly flowing into another but is not quite the pinnacle of the next season yet.  While I’m writing this, the weather outside is volatile and unpredictable.  In a few minutes it transforms from a few clouds to heavy showers, from gusting winds to a sudden sprinkling of summer sunshine, just a cheeky little reminder of what you’re leaving behind. You literally don’t know what will happen from one minute to the next (and you have no idea what to wear)!  With a smile I acknowledge that this is exactly what (peri) menopause has been for me.  It’s a tough transition, I won’t lie, but it feels exactly right, and the newest season will become my favourite once the turbulence settles.

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Life has given me the opportunity to build a vast library of skills and experiences and the older I get, the stronger I feel in my own power, my own identity, my own skin. I am freer to create, so share, to show up for what I truly want and believe. I am less inclined to overreact, to rush, to achieve. There is a quiet acceptance, an unwavering knowing and a sense of contentment that develops in the wake of the autumn storms.

I have three beautiful children who are my greatest teachers, and my season of mothering is shifting too. The chaos and intense involvement of small children is giving way to something softer, a little like spring. As I watch the saplings push through the mud from tiny little seeds, I notice how each of them is so unique and individual. The challenges they have faced and continue to navigate require me to flow with whatever is present for them and to let each sapling unfurl in their own time.

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The part of me that has walked through every season over and over, is my role as a teacher. If I look back from when I first became a yoga teacher to how I show up today, I hardly recognize myself. The current teacher season I find myself in, is that of a “nomadic teacher”, a phrase that fits comfortably within moving and teaching between studios, platforms, disciplines and modalities.

My new website and online identity is a testament to how the seasons of life are ever-changing and how each season, when it arrives, feels exactly right, and becomes my favourite.

With much love, always

Namaste