Tending to our capacity

or what a woodpile taught me about my business

I’ve been thinking a lot about capacity these days. What it means for me and how that compares to others.

And that is keeping me in the trap of the Imposter Complex, as taught by my coach Tanya Geisler.

Comparison, particularly when it comes to personal, physical, mental, spiritual capacity cannot be compared with others or the past or who we were before. It is a truly, deeply, present-moment personal thing.

So, in an effort to acknowledge my own capacity earlier this week, I went outside to deal with something that needs to be sorted before mid-September. My woodpile.

I learned last year the hard (and cold, wet way) that waiting to resource myself at the turn of the season doesn’t work. And I was determined that this year I would not make the same error. My firewood arrived in May so as to cure in time for the fall.

As I moved the wood onto a neat pile ready for autumn and winter fires, I recalled the teachings of the seasons and how the summer and fall about preparing for the winter when there is less abundant food and the cold is a real threat to life.

It occurred to me as I sweated under the mid-August sun that I had become wiser in knowing and understanding that in order to ‘survive’ winter I had to resource myself in the summer with dry, cut, stacked wood and kindling. This cannot wait until fall when there’s no time for the wood to cure and the threat of rain looms at every turn threatening to make it more complicated (and wetter) this process.

And, like many of us, I am still learning ways to resource myself in all seasons.

What I’ve learned this year is that despite my efforts last winter, I had not adequately resourced myself for this summer’s draught — a more regular occurrence than I think anyone would like — and as such my ornamental flowers are dying and I’m having to triage which of the perennials are established enough to forego greywater, and which are not. It is certain that I have lost a beloved 40-year-old ornamental evergreen due to its shallow roots (but that’s for another article). The veggies are being pulled a little earlier, and it’s unlikely the pumpkins will make it this year due to their need for lots of water.

So why is this pertinent or valuable as it relates to business? Well, here’s the thing. Everything has a season. And yet even though I know this and have known this for some time, I find my business in the season of winter and am only acknowledging now that the resources are limited. The abundance of the summer and fall are not apparent, and I have failed to adequately resource myself with systems, savings, and time to weather this period. Does it mean my business is failing and dying? Maybe. And, I don’t think so.

Here’s what I think it means:

I need to rest. Just as our ancestors rested in the winter, so do I. I need to tend to my home, my hearth, and be aware that this period could last longer than I thought. I need to turn to my community when certain resources are short and ask for support. I need to engage with ritual and ceremony the way my Slavic and Celtic ancestors would’ve done during the winter when it’s believed the veil between worlds is thin. I need to be mindful and more aware of how I’m using what resources I have and use only what I need right now.

And, now is also the time to begin planning for the spring and deciding what seeds need to be planted, what needs to be moved or removed, what changes need to take place to make room or take up room.

I forget sometimes that the cycles of my life and my business are not new to my bones, my blood, and the memories they carry.

I forget sometimes that the knowledge I have acquired through my spiritual and wellness studies also applies to my business — a living, breathing entity.

And when I remember, it’s so sweet and simple and such a deep relief because if the earth and land have taught me anything is that change is always coming, death begets life and there is always an opportunity to remember how to do it again — and grow.