Deep Ecology Network

“Everyone who reaches the edge and does not look away knows what it means when life loses its self-evidence” (Oegema, 2011) In the chaotic world around us, the in-between space sometimes seems not to be allowed to exist. When the old no longer fits, we immediately want something different, moving from one job to another, from one project to the next, as if renewal means that you only have to choose a new form. The new is presented as a breakthrough, as the solution, as something great. But anyone who looks closely sees that often little changes. There is no real transformation. The exterior is decorated differently, while the same patterns persist on the inside. The ego takes the floor, while the soul actually withdraws further. True renewal does not arise by inventing something new, but by truly letting the old fall apart. For a long time, it was a mystery what was happening inside that cocoon, but with the help of DNA techniques and MRI scans, it is becoming increasingly possible to unravel the secret of the metamorphosis of butterflies. And the beauty is that we can learn a great deal from this when it comes to transformation and the emergence of a truly new form.

Midwinter. Life that falls silent, not forever, but far. In holes, in humid, in here. It rests in stones, in seeds, in sand. Waiting for the song on the wind to remember their forgotten names. I stayed at the last farm, beyond which there was only nature. Heathland, fens, dune grasses, and endless sky. I heard the wind, grasses brushing against each other, the wings of barnacle geese flying overhead. Far in the distance, I heard the surf, like slow breathing.

Especially now, in this season, timing is crucial in nature. Seeds have a brilliant sense of timing. They wait for the right moment to germinate. After developing, the seed first enters a period of dormancy under the influence of hormones. This phase is called dormancy and ensures that the seed doesn't germinate on the plant and thus die or freeze to death in winter. Dormancy; isn't that a beautiful subtitle for winter? May we let our plans, our seeds, our ideas rest a little longer in the silent darkness of the earth. May we believe in the magic of the night for a little while longer. In the confidence that germination will indeed come later, but that something else is needed now.

Do you remember the song? "She Goes Nana…" the 1993 Top 40 hit by the Belgian band The Radios – with the beautiful line: "colors will keep on turning." It's a song about a very special woman, but if you ask me, it could just as easily be about Mother Earth. "She shines like a rainbow, moves like a river…" It's this song that spontaneously comes to mind when I'm in the woods and wondering how this season is affecting me. "Colors will keep on turning" also applies to my inner life right now. It doesn't seem to be settling down yet. I'm restless, but also tired. Every now and then I have bursts of energy and frantically clean up old clutter. But I also look back on the summer, and perhaps even spring, with some nostalgia. Is it all over already?