Photo by Sequoia Emmanuelle
I had the honor of celebrating Winter Solstice last Saturday with several brave souls dancing in the dark. My partner and I led our Blindfolded Contact dance class in Port Townsend. We honored the wisdom found from the darkness within. We held space for the inner truth that arises when we stop seeking and simply slow down. We discovered the portal that opens between our inner and outer selves in times of hibernation.
This space is a concept I've been calling "the fallow field" - and it's been a powerful teacher of mine in 2019. I often hear in esoteric and personal growth circles about the power of planting seeds, setting intentions, taking action, etc. And trust me - I am a big F*CK YES to all that. However, I don't think the fallow field gets nearly as much airtime as she deserves.
The fallow field is a place of profound stillness. Quiet. No seeds planted or sprouting. Simply rest. It's the dark abyss from which deep wisdom emanates. It is the home of eros. But here's the catch - the moment you start to SEEK for this wisdom, you've already lost contact with it. It's the genius that arises while staring out of windows. It's the inspiration found in the quiet privacy of a shower. It's the free space created while hovering on the edge of a nap.
2019 has been a fallow field meditation for me. From the outside, this might not seem so obvious. I co-bought a house with my partner - a 6-month long odyssey! I traveled to the UK and co-taught blindfolded contact dance classes. I taught a half-day version of my workshop, Heal Your Relationship To The Feminine. I wrote a one-woman show that will debut in 2020 called Portrait of the Heretic as a Young Woman. I co-led monthly dance workshops in the Bay Area and co-led workshops at 4 festivals (soon to be 5). I worked with more clients this year than I have since I started taking on private clients in 2010. All this while maintaining writing gigs, a creative and romantic partnership, and a thriving dance practice.
And I nearly burned out. I had debilitating pain in my leg that lasted 6 months. I got a cold/flu that knocked me on my a$$ for nearly a month. And I hit points of exhaustion so intense, I was often too tired to get out of bed. What these lessons were teaching me was that my soul was craving REST. That I didn't need to be PRODUCTIVE in order to be a good person. That my creativity and purpose was - in fact - ENHANCED when I took some serious downtime. My medicine was a multi-night Netflix binge, afternoons of naps, and stretches of time WITHOUT writing (I know, this one was hard - because if I'm not writing, then do I really get to call myself an artist?).
So this Solstice, I invite you to slow down, release the addictive grip of perfectionism, return home to yourself, and find solace and rest in the fallow field. Don't worry, life will still be waiting for you on the other side.
I'll be back in 2020 with renewed offerings, such as information about my solo show's debut and plans for day-long and multi-day dance events. But for now, I (and you) must rest.