One of my soul-practices has been paying attention to the seasons of nature and to the inner work each season invites me to do. In reading a memoir this past weekend, I was reminded of a slightly different perspective on seasons.
Our lives unfold in seasons—childhood, young adulthood, family and/or career-building, mid-life, elder years. My work as a writer has seasons—the delicious rush of new ideas, the flow of words in creating the story or reflection on paper, the releasing of the work into the world, and a period of dormancy before the next new idea or project.
Spiritual teacher and Christian mystic Richard Rohr teaches about the seasons of order, disorder and reorder as a “wisdom pattern”. I see this pattern reflected in the natural seasons as well. Winter has a particular order to it, at least in my part of the world, where snow, ice and frigid temperatures characterize at least four months per year. That order gives way to a period of disorder as winter and spring seem to tussle for dominance. The days start with winter-like conditions, giving way to slush and mud before freezing again overnight. The ice on the rivers begins to melt, breaking up in huge chunks which sometimes create piles of ice which are carried down on the current, carving up the shoreline as they pass. Slowly a new order emerges in the beauty of spring. I see a similar pattern as the order of late summer gives way to the increasing disorder of fall which unfolds into the order of winter.
As I let these metaphors tumble around in my heart and mind, I felt a similar pattern to the seasons of my life. Each season brought a transition period that was anything but orderly and predictable, and yet was the birthplace of the new season. One of the most vivid examples in my memory was the birth of each of our children. Bringing an infant into a family completely disrupts the order which had existed before. It was a (mostly) joyous disorder in my experience, but disorder was certainly the hallmark of those early days, even with the second offspring.
This gives me both comfort and hope as conflict and chaos continue to unfold in the world at large. Whether the lens I use is political events, climate change, or cultural shifts, life feels more unstable every day. In my extended family, we have be unceremoniously thrust into elder-care, and that transition has also brought disorder and disorientation. Being reminded of the wisdom pattern has been immensely comforting in both cases.
As Richard Rohr writes, “Knowing the full pattern allows us to let go of our first order, trust the disorder, and, sometimes even hardest of all—to trust the new reorder.” He calls each of these steps a leap of faith.
I feel that in my bones. Whether I’m thinking culturally or personally, I desperately want the old order back. My instinctive reaction is, “Life shouldn’t be this way!” My inner wisdom reminds me that life unfolds as it wills, and my work is to soften into acceptance. As I wrote a couple of weeks ago, this is anything but easy, and also the path of soul growth.
The next step is the trusting of the disorder. This almost doesn’t even make sense, until I go back to the metaphor of the arrival of spring. The mud and ice and slop, the freeze and melt cycles, the warm sunny days followed by a spring blizzard are anything but delightful to me. At the same time, over fifty experiences with this cycle have taught me I can trust the disorder. It is just the way the cold gives way to a season of new growth.
Can I trust the disorder of the world around me? This is even more difficult because I haven’t lived through a cultural shift of this magnitude. I’m aware I may not see the new order in my lifetime. In addition, this season of disorder is bringing with it overt cruelty and human suffering. In this, I am reminded of the soul-practice of holding the tension between opposites which makes space for something new to germinate. It is hard to hold trust in the wisdom pattern when it includes human suffering. This invites me to be even more diligent in my soul-care practices, and also to listen inwardly for what is my part in being present to the suffering.
In the experience of my family, trusting the disorder comes a little easier. Remembering the wisdom pattern reminds me that this is uncomfortable and extra heart-care is necessary. I can’t do my part in the shifting family dynamic if I’m not first being present to my own heartache and frustration.
I don’t know what the new order will look like, either globally or personally. There is a part of me that wishes I had just a glimmer of what it might look like, but again, my inner wisdom knows it’s actually better that I can’t see. I would be attached to wanting the new to get here already, rather than doing the work of being present to the disorder right now.
The natural seasons continue to keep me grounded in the disorder. Each season in nature does always give way to the next. They also remind me of the humility necessary to accept what is in this moment. Just as a farmer can’t control the weather patterns to ensure the best crop, so I am not in charge of how my life unfolds. My work is to be attentive to the work of my soul as I face each moment. What do I need for heart care? What do I need for rest? Where can I reconnect with joy and beauty and community?
Where do you find yourself in the wisdom pattern? What is the present season of your life inviting you to accept?
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