Honoring My Personal Winter


everyday // tordis kayma

Around this time last year, I wrote the following letter to my list. I stumbled upon it again as I was going through my email’s archives, & I’m sharing it here because even though it’s a year old, it resonates very strongly with where I’m at today.

It’s been a very, very busy year for me; lots of movement & changes. But things are slowing down, & I am being asked to do the same.

I actually did a tarot card reading yesterday that really brought home what my mission is for the remainder of the year: solitude, rest, isolation, & letting die what must die were huge themes. And that’s what I plan on doing with the rest of my December.

So, this post is a celebration of that, my personal winter, & a reminder for you to honor your own.

/ / /

It is a cold, foggy, crisp day in Portland, Oregon, & I am thinking of you.

I’ve been in my own little world these last several weeks, dealing with some personal things & coping with the aftermath, & then also realizing how profoundly in sync I’ve become with the seasons—currently, winter.

I have found myself waking up most days with an urge to lay low & stay inside & be anti-social & introverted. My creative side is not showing up very frequently, nor are my Muses; I believe they are hibernating just as I am trying to.

I’m also in the process of deep contemplation & introspection about the next phase of Sex Love Liberation, one that involves way more of me than ever before.

So that’s why I haven’t been writing as much, that’s why I haven’t updated the blog in a little while. I am going through a period of fallowness, of turning inward, just as the trees are, just as the sun in, just as the bears are.

It’s so important that I honor my natural cycles—both the vibrant & the dormant.

What my days consist of as I honor my personal Winter:

// sleeping in & snuggling my partner & pup
// eating hearty, nourishing meals
// keeping my work light & giving all of my creative fire to my clients
// nesting: cleaning house, cooking meals, tending to my hearth
// putting on headphones, tuning out the world, & listening to good jams
// reading Women Who Run With the Wolves (again)
// not being a social; allowing myself to stay indoors & not talk much
// drinking lots of tea
// Tarot & divination
// not pressuring myself to do creative but instead to just be in creation

I’ve been thinking a lot about how SLL has been for me an outright expression of my own personal liberation; how talking about sex & sensuality & desire & my intimate relationship spurs in me a desire to be curious & a full expression of who I am.

And I often judge my process by thinking that if I’m not do-ing overt things to fuel my own sexual liberation—like writing about porn or having multiple orgasms—that I’m not being liberated.

But the most powerful thing I’ve come to understand this year is this:

Self-liberation isn’t just expressed through the do-ing. It is in the be-ing.

Feeling, processing, intuiting. Releasing, listening, honoring. All are expressions of liberation.

I say all of this not just to make a point to myself as I’m grappling with the pressures to be what I am not & do what I cannot, but to give you permission to lie fallow or to process or to honor or to feel if that is what you really need right now.

It’s so easy to dispute or discredit. But allowing yourself time to lie fallow & do the quiet, seemingly unbusy inner work, is not only courageous, it acts as bright illumination on your path to liberation—be it sexual, sensual, personal, emotional, or what have you.

I heard it said once that if we tilled the farm lands day in & day out, without rest, we’d kill the soil, zapping all of its nutrients & yielding some less-than-nourishing foods. Our bodies, our purposeful work, our elusive creative Geniuses operate in the same way.

There is a time to produce, & there is a time to regenerate. Seasons exist for a reason.

Remember that.

Remember that there is sacredness in following your natural rhythms, in doing less now so that you can do more later.

© 2018 Ev'Yan Whitney. All rights reserved.