Sunday 4 August 2013

The dark season

Like many people, I struggle in winter. Darkness finds us too early and lingers too late – on some days you wake in darkness, leave for work in darkness, return home in darkness. The cold and rattling wind restrict forays outdoors and force you back inside. An emotional gloominess sets in that seems to parallel nature’s own temperament.

In certain countries in winter, depression is a real problem. People drink to escape the reality of the moment or withdraw into strange and musty corners. Traditionally, winter is the season when the dead return to speak to the living, when the veil between the worlds is thinnest. It’s the season of witches’ Sabbaths, rituals that honour the unfathomable mystery and dark, gestational powers of nature. It’s also the time for recognising beginnings, as winter is the lowest point at which the cycle turns towards new growth and life. Christmas is such a celebration of birth. In Greek myth, Persephone, the goddess of the dead, was also the goddess of the life-giving earth.

Myths and rituals exist to contain and channel the energies of the mind and body; to create meaning out of the conditions of life. They bind an individual to a group or community and, if based in wisdom, they expand consciousness to embrace a larger sphere of life.

Human energetic, psychological reality is not separate from nature. We are an expression of nature and therefore there is no hard, defining line where we end and everything else begins. Life consists of ceaseless waves of forms and patterns, shaping and reshaping without end. As this is reality, it is only logical that what is outside is reflected within. When nature is dark and brooding, we brood too. When the tenor of the season is energy turned inwards, gestation and dormancy, this tends to be our pattern also. The earth cold and forbidding finds us in a similar state.

Though we are a part of nature, human consciousness has evolved beyond instinct and so we are able to act in ways that are not symbiotic with everything else around us. In us, nature takes a giant leap forward beyond simple, pure being in itself, to being that is conscious of itself. That said, and despite the power games and illusions of our technological society, we are never outside nature. It affects us regardless of what actions we choose in its midst. For instance, if we are intensely creative in a dark, wintry period, our creations will have the character and flavour of the time; if we open and embrace in mid-winter, what we say yes to will be affected by the patterns of the season.

A mature apprehension of nature in our time rubs up against the older tendency to differentiate and create human systems that aim to be separate from the natural world. We create vast “artificial” environments where nature is ordered and under our control. By doing this, we also tame and make artificial our own natures, subjecting the very depths of ourselves to human will. This is hugely problematic because human will only operates within the larger will of nature. We become out-of-step with ourselves and the life of the planet.

The vast industrial civilisation that is consuming the Earth runs to a 24/7 rhythm. Its ideal is that all of us are “switched on” and available, as consumers and workers, all of the time. It pays little heed to emotional ups and downs, to seasons, to the cycles of nature. And where it does, its aim is to exploit for private gain. In its vision humans are mere ciphers, mere servants for the only god it recognises, greed.

Our society demands a kind of flat, routine consciousness that lacks self-knowledge and subtle appreciation of what it means to be human. Opening to ourselves means opening to nature. Why should we not, in the depths of winter, work less? Or have more time with family and friends? Why not create spaces and opportunities for introspection, for individual and group self-analysis? Or support quiet, indoor healing? Could there be room again for rituals that celebrate and nurture the creative powers of the dark?

To be sure, there has been a revival of interest in recent times in ritual and creating meaningful connection with nature. This has often taken a neo-pagan or New Age character. I was privileged once to take part in a winter solstice observation inspired by the traditional Celtic festival, Samhain. In the conscious spiritual connection of human with nature through ritual, a mutual reinforcement occurs. We are enriched and revivified by integrating ourselves back to the source of our being, the earth, while nature is stimulated and enhanced in the creative potential of the evolving human.