SPACE AND WINTERING
Trees in winter are not very useful. After all they bear no leafs, flower or fruits. In fact, trees in winter seem pretty much the same. And their naked bodies, a standing skeleton, are the trace of a bygone life. At least, this used to be my winter scenario some decade ago.
Now, having lived inside a oak forest for several years, this perception feels more like one old fixed script, rather than a lived reality.
It’s only by the end of November, that the oaks begin to drop their leafs. Till then, the green dome combined with the seasonal shortage of sunlight, makes this place a dark place to live. So, it’s both a gift and a miracle when places where leafs once were, grow into passages for light, wind, sounds and sight.
By now, most trees here in the woods are bare. And the forest is porous and transparent. The image of a tree in winter signals to me, more than one end, an open space. Space here seems to combine two things: endings and beginnings. The leafs that had fell and died make good soil for the tree’s roots and all live that will emerge during Spring.
I find space in-between the branches, the trees, the roots and crowns, the earth and sky, me and the tree. I see space in the winter light. What remains standing reflects the essential life of something invisible: the roots underground. In the winter forest there is another current of time: one that is very slow and strong. This new sense of space and time gradually ripples into my breath, my way of seeing, rhythm, my bones and movement. It’s in fact during winter that I feel more free and empty whilst steady inside.
This makes me reflect about the collective way of living in such modern times. Daily life is usually busy and full. Most of us need to keep the “leafs” on throughout the whole year: working, managing, producing, caring and improving. Society’s life breaks away from the seasons to live forever in Summer. Energy is invested mostly in the outside: activity and results. People lack a pulse of balance while feeling depleted inside. Winter and wintering have been for the most exiled, in a society that values progress.
But life cannot exist without cycles. And every living thing depends on empty space. To us this comes in a diversity of ways: the pauses we make, the attention given to silence, dreaming, gazing out of a window or the clouds, boredom, the creative vacuum, recovery, digestion and let’s not forget, play.
Scientific research has already demonstrated that this aspects are crucial to health, creativity and problem solving. So why not invest in wintering?
Lao Tzu, the legendary author of Tao Te Ching, wrote in Chapter 11 of his book:
Thirty spokes share the wheel’s hub,
It is the centre hole that makes it useful
Shape clay into a vessel
Is is the space within that makes it useful
Cut doors and windows for a room
It is the holes which make it useful
Therefore profit comes from what is there
Usefulness from what is not there”
We have tried to bypass winter, and it does not work. The tree and nature find their expression complete through more than one season. And it’s the empty space in the middle that allows the wheel to turn.
Humans are not outside nature. Relating to winter and wintering, enhances renewal and new ideas to emerge. Daydreaming, slowing down, sinking into the vacuum and flexible play counterbalance the fruition of Summer, making the cycle of life whole.
Here’s a practical chi kung exercise to engage in wintering.
One of the most known zhan zhuang postures, is called by many names: embrace the balloon, embrace the tree, posture of the three circles, embrace the sun or cheng bao zhuang. The ultimate distinctive aspect of this posture is the space in-between.
Attention is then mostly given to the space between several parts of the body — instead of solemnly to the physical body. Is not the band of the wheel but the air inside that draws our attention.
Stand in your favorite place: at home, the balcony, park or a forest. The existence of a plant or tree nearby can offer you a good example for the practice. Feet are parallel, placed bellow the shoulders. Knees are slighly bended or unlocked. The shoulders, pelvis, legs and feet follow gravity, towards earth and the lowest point, the nadir. The top of the head feels as if lifted, following the sky and the highest point, the zenith. The arms wrap around the heart area and gesture the posture of the embrace. Now, simply notice space in-between the fingers. The empty in the palms. Inside the embrace there is space. Also under the chin. The in-between and behind the knees is a open room. Experience the space in front of the body and also behind the back. Like the fingers, toes are also gently spread. There is space below the feet and above the head. Space can also be felt under the armpits and between the arms and ribcage. Around the torso there is the embracing circle of the arms and also of the wider embrace of the horizon. With constant practice, it becomes clearer the movement of intention between two opposite directions. The movement of two directions at the same time is called stillness. Thus stillness translates an inner, alive dynamics. Holding intentionally two simultaneous directions creates space. Imagine the empty room of a inflated balloon. The empty space in the crown of the tree or a forest in winter. The space outside and the space inside reflect and nourish each other.
