In December, it is noticeable how evenings draw in ever earlier and colder, with shadows lengthening and the sun plunging north on the horizon whilst our tilted Earth completes another revolution.

Like yesterday’s icy, persistent rain, the crisp quality of this time feels sharply awakening – it is effortless to be attentive, present and immersed in what is. I find myself under a compulsory injunction to notice, co-opted by Nature’s final request before she repairs to underground caverns of regeneration…

And so I tilled and turned the soil in my tiny city garden, drawing in summer compost to nurture and replenish its deeper layers. I nestled favourite bulbs and seeds within, the crocuses and tulips and English meadow flowers, with the aspiration that they’ll soon burst forth and bloom, vibrant multi-coloured witnesses of Nature’s resurrection. But for now, seized by the contraction of late autumn, they lay in wait for winter frost to break their dormancy and start the germination process. As I look out, I do not know for certain that they will wake, but there is magic and wonderment as I hope and wait & see… Our own act of hope can be simple.

Now the ground stands still, cool, almost black under its warm layer of winter mulch. I am reminded of Carl Jung’s observation that life is alchemy, and just like it, begins in the dark. It takes winter’s momentary suspension of light to open seeds to transformation and to the manifestation of their full potential. In our life too, much of who we truly are is not manifest yet. Illnesses and breakdowns are our psyche’s push to birth our unsuspected and oft resisted qualities, for our full presence to take part. Even in the darkest of times, there always is hope.

Long ago in ancient China, Taoists sages taught that the “10 000 things” of our world continually emerge into presence, stay for a while, then fall back into primordial absence. In our life, we notice this especially, maybe, with the beautiful things, the things that matter – our living Earth and her community of beings. Connectedness, relationship, belonging and interdependence form the foundations of both Nature and humanity; so it is a small step from being aware of and appreciating our place in Nature, to being aware of and appreciating our relationship with one another and with our own self.

A post-it note to me and my clients in this autumnal chill is the importance of tilling the clay areas that have compacted and sealed off within ourselves and in our relationship to others, to allow pathways for new air to breathe in new life, to restore harmony and free the potential for riotous joy to flow again. For this, the ability to step back and be more reflective talks of working from the inside-out – look for the seed inside of you!

It is when we find balance within ourselves that we can expand out to family, community, out into the world. Miracles happen when we get close to our centred place – our standpoint changes. And when we embrace the full palette of who we are, we become grounded at long last. Then rather than always looking for the next mountain top, we can just elevate our grounding and feel the sacred essence of what it is to be human. In those moments we feel most intensely alive; our central awareness expands to a profound sense of oneness with all. Buddhism calls this heightened alertness ‘mindfulness’ and emphasizes how deeply rooted in the body it is. There is gold in this. When we are fully present to ourselves, we partake in a profound experience of reality, beyond the personal, cultural or historical. It is this participation that puts us in touch with our transpersonal dimension. As we belong, connection allows our roots to plunge and grow into the soil of our full being. What better way to bloom where we are planted!