It happened again.
I was visiting with my parents and my mom and I fell into an old rut. You know—the emotional kind you can only fall into if you’ve known each other for about 45 years.
A few hours later, I started feeling sick: sore throat, tired, achy.
Fast-forward a few days.
I’m watching a screening of a movie called The Sacred Science, which documents a group of people with various illnesses who travel to the Amazon to do healing work with rainforest shamans.
One of the shamans is an American man who went to the Amazon as a teenager because Western medicine was unable to cure him. Once he healed, he stayed and studied.
He is the interpreter for the movie, not only of sentences spoken in Spanish but of philosophies and concepts.
The most striking idea he talks about is breaking the pattern of an illness.
30 days in the jungle breaks the pattern. Breaking out of daily routines, daily food choices, daily electronic devices, all of this creates a break in the pattern and a chance for change.
What you’ve read, up until now, is a post I had begun months ago.
As late autumn settles into my soul, I shift from creative mode to contemplative mode. Like the trees, I have dropped my leaves and sent my energy downward. As I live less from my head and more from my roots, the ideas come more slowly and I am more likely to rifle through half-done posts to find a thought to flesh out instead of rifling around my brain for a fresh concept.
Our modern culture tends to thrive on linear time, with few remaining markers to remind us to cycle through, to change it up, to break up patterns.
Patterns can last days or months or decades. The argument you always have with your mom, the food you always eat for breakfast, these are patterns. The headaches you inherited from your grandmother are ancestral patterns built into the bones of your DNA.
When every day looks the same, these patterns remain untouched and unchanged.
Breaking old patterns can be as easy as a random walk one afternoon, as complex as a set of rituals timed with the moon and the changing seasons.
The most important lesson I learned during my Irish year was to live in cyclical time. To notice the cycle of day and night (difficult with electric lights) and the comings and goings of the moon. The seasons cycle, each bringing its own energy and calling us to tend to ourselves in different ways—cooling herbs in the summer months, warming in the winter, building foods as we transition between the two to provide extra nourishment through the stress of change.
Each time we shift ourselves through these cycles, we break the patterns of the one before. So switching from juicing in the summer to soups in the winter breaks any negative patterning your body was sinking into from having juice every day. Then summer returns and juice replaces soup, once again rescuing you from the rut of repetition.
As much as I honor these cycles in most areas of my life, I have not found a cyclical pattern for my business. Doing the same activities every day begins to grind me down and gray me out.
I’ve been living with these thoughts for a bit and trying to find a more cyclical flow.
Here’s what I’ve come up with:
Here’s the concept:
When I lived in Ireland, we gardened by the moon. As the moon passed through various signs of the zodiac, our activities would change: weeding during fire signs, research during air. Water was for planting and earth for harvesting.
This flow structured our days and kept monotony from setting in.
So I am color-coding my calendar:
- Creating during fire signs.
- Marketing during air.
- Earth will be for systems and structures.
- Water days for tapping deep and letting things percolate.
How do you add variety to your days and find a cycle within your flow? Share with me.
And I’ll report in and let you know if Biodynamic Entrepreneurship is the next hot trend. 😉