I’ve personally been mulling this question over myself. — pretty much all Winter. I hit the ground running last Spring after having been let go from work due to budget cuts. The ground felt unstable beneath my feat, but there was this weird sense of peace and grace. I knew I was embarking on something extraordinary for myself. — externally, it may look like nothing, but this was my moment to prove to myself that I can do it. I could finally turn my years of freelancing into a business.
I took advantage of the fast-pace, high-energy aspects of Summer and networked, built a clientele, expanded my portfolio, advertised, and set-out to build a team. I hosted a three-month training to share all of my knowledge thus far. My hope was to instill my core values and habits that have helped me to stay creative and focused over the years. I wanted to train these individuals in more than just my craft, but the lifestyle that has supported longevity for me and my work.
… all for it to fall flat as we transitioned into Fall. The momentum was dead and I felt like a failure.
I quickly gathered all of my material and designed modules for the training, hosted it on my website, advertised, held live and private sessions, created a network for us to stay connected, built a library of online resources, filmed… edited… shared the lessons online… all for it to fall flat as we transitioned into Fall. The momentum was dead and I felt like a failure.
I find living with the seasons and TCM (Traditional Chinese Medicine) to be gateways for balance. I knew in my heart that once the Fall season arrived, it was time to stop growing and harvest the ideas that would carry me through the Winter months. It’s such a hard practice. — to let go. Ever since I was first introduced to the idea of living with the energies that each season offers, I knew it was a discipline I wanted to carry throughout my life… and business. Now, I look back and wonder what trouble I would have gotten myself in, had I continued to expand with no end.
It was my first Winter without an extremely uncomfortable and lingering depression. I granted myself the time to move slowly, remain inward, and only expend energy on what was necessary to survive.
The Winter was slow, as I avoided starting anything new. I simply worked with the clients I had to complete contracts that were made over the Summer and Fall. It was my first Winter without an extremely uncomfortable and lingering depression. I granted myself the time to move slowly, remain inward, and only expend energy on what was necessary to survive. I imagined ancient tribes huddling around a fire and resting, sleeping, dreaming… hibernating all Winter, and only leaving the safety of their shelter when necessary for hunting or gathering water. — and I wanted to do the same.
It was so hard to empty myself in this way, especially in our result-driven culture. I was going against all of my modern-day instincts to stay busy and hustle. Despite feeling healthy and balanced, I felt like a failure for not seeing my projects through. I didn’t have a team I could depend on and the network started to feel foreign to me. I had designed this whole online course that now didn’t feel like a genuine representation of my work.
As I continued to empty myself, I started to feel insecure that I didn’t know who I was and what I had to offer. Suddenly nothing was clear. I was literally in the dark. — with daylight hours growing shorter and no spark of inspiration in sight. Winter brought me to my knees spiritually and I prayed for guidance. Personally, every time I get real with God in this way, I always receive an answer.
Lord Ram gave Hanuman a quizzical look and said, “What are you, a monkey or a man?” Hanuman bowed his head reverently, folded his hands and said, “When I do not know who I am, I serve You and when I do know who I am, You and I are One.
It was weeks of prayer and conversations with God. My meditations showed me the power of living in the balance. I began to feel so grateful that seasons exist to guide us along the path of yin and yang, push and pull, expand and contract. I saw how if my life was one long Summer, I would drive myself into the ground. I saw that my greed to continue to grow and accumulate new things, would eventually destroy me and drive me so far from my true nature. Without Fall nudging me to slow down, I would have kept going and felt just as lost… if not more.
I thought that was all I needed to hear but still felt a tinge of failure. During a mid-day walk, I popped-on Spotify to hear some tunes when this podcast showed up. It was Brene Brown’s Dare to Lead podcast and she was talking with her guest about why the word “failure” doesn’t quite capture the often-transformative experience of falling and beginning again. Of course… I was hooked. I listened closely and finally felt that surge of creative inspiration that I’ve grown to know and love. I felt okay in my own skin again… Brene and guest speaker, Dr. Sarah Lewis, shared what failure means to them.
I learned that the word failure came-to-be centuries ago and defined someone who had gone bankrupt. It was a word used to describe when something came to an end and there was no rebirth in sight. All Winter, I forgot that Spring was coming.
I learned that the word failure came-to-be centuries ago and defined someone who had gone bankrupt. It was a word used to describe when something came to an end and there was no rebirth in sight. All Winter, I forgot that Spring was coming. I’m still young and new to the practice, so I’m going to assume that next Winter will be a little easier; but I find it funny now, that this concept wasn’t obvious to me. I didn’t fail… I hit pause to reassemble and reimagine what could be, and to make sure that what I was creating was still in alignment with who I am.
Taking a pause is never a failure. You can always begin again in this upward, spiral staircase called Life.
I’m learning to be more private with my work and take my time experimenting with it. Opening our work to others… before it’s ready… can be debilitating as suddenly unwarranted opinions, ideas, and criticism flow-in. I made the mistake of opening my training to a large group of people. Next time, I would keep it small to a group that I trust and value their insight, and who would understand if the project needed a pause to be re-worked.
I’m happily looking forward to Spring and already feel the momentum picking up again. I can’t stop writing new ideas on how to repurpose everything that was put on pause. I have new ideas for the training to make it more in alignment with my core values and hopes for the future. I’ve written out my work-goals for the next six-months and can’t wait to watch them take-shape.
Taking a pause is never a failure. You can always begin again in this upward, spiral staircase called Life.