Rest: Moving On by Letting Go, by Wendy DeRaud

 

It's almost time for a new season, and in order to make room for the new, we have to let go of the old, dead seed, and bury it deeply in the soil of our lives.

 

The soil is full of life and nutrients that will nurture and penetrate into that seed, in order to invigorate it, stimulate it, infuse it with new life. But not yet. It can't happen until it rests. We have to let it be enfolded by that warm, moist, comforting soil, like an earthworm that appears dead underground, but emerges at the right time.

 

We take to the earth with a heavy shovel, letting our weight push it into the ground, unearthing all of that rich loam that has been composting in all the disintegrating garbage, decomposed organic material, sending out heat, moisture, life force at work beneath the surface. It is becoming something new, transforming mere dirt into something more useful and nutritious. We are waiting for this process to happen, for that newness to germinate.

So we turn the soil over again so different patches of dirt can be brought in to this wholeness. So that the heat can spread throughout the patch of soil, so that over time, the whole mass can serve another purpose. But it has to rest, it has to lie dormant and become fallow ground for awhile.

Resting is hard work.

 

In times of deep rest, thoughts can incubate, visions can focus, unused and unnecessary distractions can fall away and die off.

 

With rest come clarity, because all of the aborted ideas can no longer suck away at the roots, leeching life from the heart. Rest can reset ones inner biology to the default position, the original state of being. All is stripped away and we can safely be.

We were temporarily distracted from our human-being-ness, and need desperately to become reconnected to our Source. We do this through rest, and that is how we take care of our interior landscapes, and prepare ourselves for what lies ahead.