The skeletal shapes of trees in winter are wonderful. The lacy patterns are evocative of their bare bones, all clothing stripped back to the underlying structure that supports their bodies. Yet we know that in due course the rising sap will bring new life in the beauty of burgeoning leaves, spring blossoms and the buzz of bees as spring energy bursts through.
These are the thoughts I had while watching a scene of winter trees with a blank landscape beyond them in a crime thriller on television. It was billed as a tragedy, but one could see that the concept beneath the surface was a story about the human condition and its frailty. The image of a wintry landscape was meant to endorse this.
Surely it is not so. Winter tree branches may superficially look frail, but these bare bones allow the wind and rain to pass through unhindered, boughs swaying in time with the energy of the storm. And by allowing themselves to bend, to give way, they can survive.
Is this not a metaphor for us and our fragile lives in this often-fragile world? Our beliefs, our faith give us the resilience to fight off, or at least to temporise, the buffets that now and again knock us off balance until we find our feet once more and are firmly grounded. The storms will pass and all will be right with the world again.
Storms can arise out of nowhere without any warning and suddenly all is not right with our world. An illness can leave us desperately struggling to find our balance again and marshal our thoughts. Why has this happened to us when we have so many things on our to-do list and responsibilities to fulfil? Perhaps we have forgotten that it is not a good idea to be staying on our feet all day, running around like scalded cats to get everything done while our body is calling out for rest.
There are moments in all our lives when we need to bend in the wind like the bare-branched trees and allow some of life’s stresses to pass us by. We need to learn from nature and rest in life’s winter seasons.
It has been known for a long time by spiritual thinkers, guides, and teachers – and now science has caught up – that the brain can pre-empt what the next moment of our human experience will be. Our unconscious thoughts know where we are going to be in the next breath. So, it can be hard to marshal our thoughts when something stops us in our tracks. We have a conscious need to be resilient, and it is only human not to want to change things when we think everything is going just the way we want it to be. We assume that this joyful equilibrium will keep going for as long as we choose.
But then unheralded events can catch us mid-journey and we are halted in our tracks. Perhaps it is the spirit within that is giving us a message to pause for a moment and not plough determinedly through life as if no minute may be wasted, ignoring the signs of, “You cannot keep this up for much longer.” These events mean that we have not understood the need to steady ourselves – not only physically but also spiritually – to take a breath and be still for a moment. Occasionally, life must hand us a ‘red card’ to tell us that we must now sit on the side-lines for a little and wait until our energy is once more in balance with the world.
Yet it can be so difficult to trust what our next move should be when the whole rhythm of life has changed. We can lose heart, lose our sense of proportion as to what is ‘fair’ and rail against ‘fate’. We may mentally stagger back, asking ourselves. “What am I doing wrong?”
This is not the moment to feel guilty for having to pause. Rather, we are being given an opportunity, time to review and re-assess where our lives are leading us. This is exactly the moment when we can choose to look for the signposts that the universe is lining up for us, to point us in new directions. It is a moment to wait, perhaps, for some spiritual insight to give us the answers we need. Yes, these answers may ultimately lead us along unfamiliar ground. But we need to accept that change is steering us in the right direction.
Trees lose their leaves the better to withstand the storms of autumn and winter. Yet they still hold in stasis within a promise of what is to come, the not yet fully formed buds that in spring will swell and burst forth into new life. In a similar way, we must try to see that whatever challenges may confront us, our own wintry storms, these are the moments when we shed the leaves of whatever no longer serves us, hearing the spirit within as it says, “Let’s turn a corner, for something better lies ahead.”
We can weather the storms. Our spirits only ask us to trust that all will be well, that we are strong enough to step into an unfolding future and brave whatever challenges are ahead. These may lead us to new beginnings that, viewed from the earlier comfort of familiarity, we might otherwise have been tempted to ignore.
“Behind every difficulty there is a hidden blessing.”
(Grace Cook’s guide, White Eagle)
Ann Matkins is the author of Celestial Ambulance, a humorous novel
of life – and work – after death. It is published by Local Legend.
www.https://local-legend.co.uk
© Ann Matkins, 2023
Article published in More to Life – Edition 64
