You do not need to blossom all year

In the back garden of our previous house, we had a huge cherry blossom tree. Every year, in early March, she would suddenly bloom, and that was my signal that spring had arrived. I anticipated her glory in the weeks leading up to it and often stood at my bedroom window taking her in after waking. And then her soft blush-pink flowers breathed life into the dreary skies, bringing colour to the garden again. For around six weeks they lasted, and it always felt a shame when they were gone. But their short life also made me appreciate them even more. They had done their job of introducing the new season, and I loved them for that. If they existed all year round, their entrance would not feel nearly as special.

The seasonal rhythms of our bodies

Despite not enjoying cold weather very much, I’ve learnt that seasons offer us a wisdom that is not found in a perpetual state of summer. Scripture captures this beautifully in Ecclesiastes 3:1: “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” For women, this conversation about seasons becomes even more personal. Seasons are woven into our bodies. Our hormonal rhythms, the changes of pregnancy, motherhood, ageing and menopause all remind us that our lives do not move in straight lines. When we try to transcend this wisdom, our relationship with our bodies can become strained.

We are quite literally wired to feel before we think

Even good things, when they arrive at the wrong time, can feel overwhelming. Opportunity, responsibility and even joyful commitments can become burdensome if they appear in a season when what we truly need is space to breathe. Life moves in rhythms, and nature understands this instinctively. Perhaps part of our challenge as modern humans is that we have drifted a little too far from our own instincts and have even become wary of them. For some of us, our bodily impulses feel more carnal and opposed to the life of the Spirit rather than part of God’s intelligent design. For centuries, in the West, the wisdom of the body has been treated as secondary to the intellect, and a legacy of neglect in women’s health research has left many of us with an impoverished understanding of our own chemistry.

Carl Jung believed that the greatest problem facing modern humans is our disconnect from our instinctual life. He described our tendency to live in the ‘loft’ of the house, the analytical mind, rather than the ground floor where life is actually felt. Through neuroscience, we now know that the gut contains millions of neurons, its own nervous system, which are constantly sending signals to the brain. We are quite literally wired to feel before we think. Instinct therefore is something altogether more immediate than analysis. I can still remember how my breasts would automatically fill with milk when my babies cried. Think about our longing to worship, to kneel and raise our hands. The body, in every season, keeps trying to call us back downstairs to respond rather than resist.

A psychotherapist I know embodies this wisdom through what she calls kitchen therapy. Sessions unfold over chopping boards and cups of tea. There’s tasting, pausing, adjusting flavours, moving around the room. It naturally slows the pace as recipes and ingredients become a means of helping clients to know themselves more deeply, in community with others.

Learning to let our bodies lead

Over the winter I chose to let my body lead. I didn’t force myself to the gym in January to work off Christmas dinner. The dark nights made me want to hibernate, so I did. I gained a few pounds and tried not to get down on myself about it, because since when did we have to be the same weight all year round? Then in March I scheduled some gentle running dates with friends. My body was asking for movement again, and, while mentally it felt hard to get going, I knew after a few weeks I’d be back in rhythm.

In May, we find ourselves on the threshold of change again, as spring leans into summer and something in the air shifts. Our culture often expects us to bloom all year round, but nature tells a different story. Sometimes, change invites us to let go of something that once served us well, to release the pressure to be consistently energetic, consistently productive and consistently available. The cherry blossom tree teaches us that beauty does not need to last forever to be meaningful. In fact, its fleeting nature is exactly what makes us stop and notice it.

Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. What season is your body in right now, and what might God be trying to show you through it?

4 ways to listen to your body

Reconnecting with your body’s wisdom doesn’t have to be complicated. It can begin with very small moments of noticing, such as:

resting in what brings ease and joy rather than forcing what feels heavy

paying attention to when your energy naturally spikes or dips, and resisting the urge to push through it

making space to pause and ask what is needed right now, rather than what is expected

allowing yourself to want less in a season that asks for rest