For the most part right now, the energy is very inward. Mercury retrograde. The tail end of winter hibernation when the sun feels warmer and there is still snow on the ground. It's the back-and-forth season of in-between.
I've learned to embrace this kind of slower, more contemplative energy. It doesn't mean that things aren't happening, because the truth is there are always things incubating and becoming in the corners of my busy brain, but it feels like a more tender space where tiny new growth is unfurling. There's a certain amount of necessary tending that requires extra sleep, wide swaths of white space, and nurturing practices that support simplicity and only what is most essential.
It's a time of stoking the flames of wild internal combustion... transformation on a cellular level.
I have become really aware that it's in this, the marrow of my life beneath the busy go-time and periods of productivity, I am in the greatest stretches of growth. It's the shoring up that needs to happen long before the time comes to see if what I've been building is actually sea worthy.
It is cells dividing, wings forming, synapses connecting and beginning to fire.
One the outside it looks like sitting on the couch amidst a pile of kids and books, and tons of writing and reflecting. On the inside it's abstract and grey, the mingling uncertainty and a little discomfort, and a tangle of thought and feeling experiments that have no real linear order. It's not a place of certainty or sturdiness, but it's juicy and important none the less.
What I know is that this is simply a part of the natural rhythm. I can't schedule it, plan for it, control it in any way. It simply just is, and I have to do my best to align with where this energy wants to go. Shift here... adjust there. Rest and repeat until it is time to emerge like this springtime that's on the verge, but not quite.