Tentative Beginnings
March’s theme at Life in Pencil is Beginnings.
Posted by Elizabeth
Last Friday I finally got around to doing some much-needed pruning in my yard. I clipped back the sage bush, a tangled mat of crisp vines supported by a thick carpet of decaying leaves. I tore at shards of dried iris leaves with my bare hands, strips of coarse raffia removed to reveal tiny green shoots of new growth below. New life was emerging, unseen and untouched until I folded back the blanket of winter. March is an elusive month, filled with tentative beginnings. Daffodils and crocus – the front-line soldiers sent out before the rest of the troops – hesitantly shoulder their way out of the hard earth, peeking their fresh heads out for a look around, then seeming to retreat. One moment the cold wind is howling at our doorstep, and the next the sun is peeping through a curtain of grey. March is an identity crisis, unable to decide whether it’s time to continue hibernating or come out of our holes.
These days, my life seems reflective of this shift of seasons. Last week spring fever was in full swing, the promise of new beginnings swirling around me like a happy whirlwind. The energy and excitement of new writing projects, social engagements, an upcoming trip to Europe, and impending motherhood – all emerging on the horizon – was enough to carry me full-throttle into a new season. I crossed off items on my to-do list, many of which had languished for months, in an inky flourish, cheerily wondering to myself, “Why did it take me so long to get to this?” I wrote. I made reservations. I researched. I returned phone calls. I got a lot done, and as I result I felt happy, alive, and energized.
I planned for an equally productive week, enthusiastically sketching an exceedingly long to-do list on Sunday evening. But yesterday morning I woke up groggy and out-of-sorts, immediately feeling the shift of energy that had taken place overnight. I scanned my to-do list, the items of which now seemed daunting and unachievable. I moped around the kitchen for awhile, then killed time checking my email, feeling that familiar sensation creep in around me. Now what?
Humans are just like the seasons. There is no clear breaking point between winter and spring, but a number of weeks on either side of March 20th where the seasons “slosh” back and forth, an ongoing arm-wrestling match until spring finally wins out – and such is the case with new beginnings in our own lives. There is an uncomfortable push-pull that takes place before new life firmly takes root. We tend to revel in those spring-like moments of action, clarity, purpose, and productivity, but fight those inevitable small slides back into winter, often characterized by inaction, confusion, and low energy; in other words, mental hibernation. If we endeavor to live our lives in the present moment, though, we need to learn to accept whatever the day (and the season) brings us – even if it’s not what we would have chosen for ourselves.
As I thought about how I’d like my day to unfold, accepting the parameters that had been given to me, I knew I had a decision to make: I could retreat back into full winter hibernation mode or step tentatively back into spring. Here’s what I considered:
- I needed to embrace the “sloshing point.” Year ago, I took a series of classes at an organization in Seattle called Centerpoint, which teaches clients how to better manage their careers and their lives through periods of change. At Centerpoint I learned to think about my life as seasons of the year, and the inevitable “sloshing” that happens between stages and seasons. Even though the sun was shining, yesterday felt more like winter than spring: so be it.
- I need to realize that activity has to be balanced with periods of non-doing. Last fall I wrote about the importance of plateaus, those inevitable periods of inactivity that pop up in our lives. While plateaus can last weeks or months, sometimes I think we experience mini-plateaus that last just a day or two. After a week of total productivity, I needed to give myself permission to take a mini-break. In fact, this dip in energy was probably just a natural balancing-out. New beginnings require both activity and non-doing.
- I need to set small(er) goals for this week. This week isn’t last week, and my metric for what I accomplished yesterday need not dictate my level of productivity today. Although I’m not ready for full-fledged spring, at times like these it’s easy for me to slide back into full hibernation, which usually leads me to falling even deeper into winter. Instead, I decided to take a smaller step into spring, setting more manageable goals for where I’m at today. Will I get as much done as I did last week? Probably not, but I’ll get something done, and won’t feel like a slug. At Centerpoint, I learned to ask myself, “What do I have energy for today?”
- I don’t need to chastise myself for a waning enthusiasm for these new beginnings. We naturally praise ourselves for being active and productive – as products of the Western world, it’s hard-wired into us. But last week, I didn’t read, or think, or do any of the contemplative activities that make my periods of activity possible. So rather than berating myself for not moving in a steady “onward and upward” pattern, I will recognizing that every new period of beginning involves a few steps back.
How about you? What do you find helpful when you’re “sloshing” between seasons – especially between the “winter” and “spring” of your life? How do new beginnings show themselves in your own life? How do you “stay in the moment” when the excitement of new beginnings is on the horizon but not quite here yet?
March 2nd, 2010 at 5:26 am
I love the term “sloshing”! I like to slosh to music. If I am feeling uninspired and ready to hibernate again, I put on a favorite song and have a personal dance party. If THAT doesn’t motivate me to step into the light, then I know I need to retreat (as so describe) until I feel like dancing again.
March 2nd, 2010 at 7:26 am
Yesterday I insisted my husband and I take a walk at lunch (we have our own business, HQ is home). Because we’ve been snowbound, it was the first walk in weeks. So great to see crocus shoots coming up through the snow, creeks rushing with snowmelt, and signs of spring just around the corner. Soon we’ll put away the toboggan and snowboards, and start the spring cleaning.
March 2nd, 2010 at 7:52 am
Emily, I, too, like the term “slosh,” which I believe I stole from Centerpoint somewhere along the way. I think you make a good point here: make some small strides to step into the new beginning, but if it’s STILL not working, accept the fact that what you need to do at the moment is retreat. There’s no pushing spring.
March 2nd, 2010 at 9:08 am
Ugh, I am currently in a “slosh”. However, I have found that having two little ones to take care of keeps me from getting too deep into one. It helps me remember that it’s not all about me and what I want or don’t want to do. I usually “allow” myself a day of rest on Mondays after we have been in Kansas City for the weekend. We are constantly go, go, going when we are there, so I guess I feel I deserve a day of rest when we are back home. I love reading your blog Liz! It’s always nice to be able to relate to someone, and to know I’m not the only one “sloshing” from time to time. =)
March 2nd, 2010 at 9:16 am
I struggle with the sloshing (or the “tummy time” as I call it, borrowing an idiom from my life with babies). I easily get caught up in existential angst and find it helpful sometimes to get up (literally) and go, borrowing Nike’s command to “Just do it” – whatever it is, paying a bill, responding to an e-mail, just something to feel a glimmer of accomplishment and maybe just inspire me to do more. I wish I were more comfortable with the being.
March 2nd, 2010 at 10:16 am
I’ve never been good at that “in-between” time, when seasons take their sweet time to change. For me, I think it’s more about impatience than anything else, and wanting to dive into the activities/clothes/food that make each season its own. I’m not sure whether I psychologically fall into the same kind of “slosh” or not…for the time being, I’m feeling excited about the promise of all the things on the horizon…and trying to enjoy that, since I’m often worrying about the things I haven’t yet checked off.
March 2nd, 2010 at 2:54 pm
I wonder if this sloshing feeling has something to do with not just moving through seasons but in your case tri-mesters as well. It was almost 9 years ago since I was last pregnant (wow), but I do recall a feeling very similar in the end and of my 1st and beginning of my 2nd trimester. It was this enormous desire to cuddle in bed with my quilt as long as I was humanly able and to fully appreciate a good, cloudy, drizzly day. (Not hard to do here). Either way, soak it up; I love the “sloshy” feeling it’s comforting. Sometimes being idle is a gift, giving us time to reflect and reassess.
March 2nd, 2010 at 4:02 pm
Elizabeth, I can’t believe you were doing spring yardwork already! Here in Minnesota we still have a few feet of snow on the ground. But the melt has started.
You reminded me that I planted a lot (a lot!) of tulip bulbs last fall, and hopefully we’ll see them soon. You are right, “March is an identity crisis.” I love this description! I used to hate having a March birthday, but now I kind of like it. The changing of seasons is something we shouldn’t take for granted.
The thing that sticks with me most is the need for plateaus. I love to be productive, but I must allow myself to be lazy, to embrace silence and serenity.
March 2nd, 2010 at 10:07 pm
Beautiful! I hope your gardens blooms with fragrant flowers and lush green plants
Regards,
Asha
March 3rd, 2010 at 9:16 am
[...] Elizabeth at Life in Pencil wrote about March and its tentative beginnings, caught undecided between more winter hibernation [...]
March 8th, 2010 at 12:01 pm
Not having read this post, I did the same just yesterday. Although a 9 months pregnant woman raking the leaves off all the tulips and daffodils was enough to bring out the neighbors, I persevered until my hips hurt and it was too dark to continue. In a few short hours I had cleaned 4.5 of the 5 flowerbeds and had the best nights sleep in weeks. While my husband and the neighbors all said I overdid it, I had such a sense of calm and accomplishment that the baby-panic dreams escaped me completely. All that being said, I had no such illusions of a longer to-do list for the rest of the week. It seemed to cure me completely.
I hope you can find a task that brings you that cure!