Fallow Ground

Originally published at KarenVernon.net on July 25, 2020

For me, the word fallow conjures bygone times. Maybe because it’s rooted in our agrarian past (see what I did there?) or maybe, metaphorically, because there’s been no time in my recent or distant memory when the ground of my spirit has had a moment to rest.

But the word kept calling to me, especially as I approached a recent time of self-imposed rest. From the moment I graduated from high school decades ago, I’ve been working, building a career and raising a family. I’ve rarely stopped for air, and certainly never devoted enough time to nurturing my creative spirit.

Consider these synonyms for fallow: Depleted. Dry. Parched. Neglected. Uninspired. Yep, feels about right. Which is why at last I made the necessary, self-preserving decision to step away from a ridiculously demanding job so I could clear my head and (I hoped) turn my time and energy to more creative, energizing, life-giving pursuits.

Interestingly, there are other synonyms: Resting. Unused. Dormant. On the Shelf. Out of Action. Sidelined. Suspended. Latent.

It strikes me that the first set of words is describing land that went fallow by accident, and with no end in sight. It’s how I got to that place in my life and career without meaning to, and without thought or intention.

The second list is more hopeful to me. It’s about land that is resting on purpose. It’s unused, on the shelf, sidelined, latent, but for what I read as an intentionally finite period of time. Like good farmers know, it has to rest so it can again, sometime in the future, be useful and productive.

Is it any wonder I love this image? And yet, here’s what I learned a mere few days into my own self-selected fallow time: It’s hard. As my wise sister-in-law reminded me, I’ve been going at such full speed that it takes time to “let the engine slow to idle.” No kidding!

Instead of fully embracing this fallow time, early on I found myself trying to do what I do best: manage it.  To figure out what comes next, to quickly move into my website creation and line up new work, to create plans B, C and D in case Plan A didn’t provide the financial safety net I need.

All this activity, when what I really, truly needed was rest. To be “out of action” for a bit. To let my mind be “suspended,” while I opened myself to new possibilities. It all sounds so right, and still it terrified me.

For so long I’ve embodied the illusion that I, and only I, can and must manage my future; to step back from that is perhaps to admit that it’s never been really in my hands. To let go of my typical orchestration of everything and just be, even for a little while, was both my heartfelt wish, and my most daunting challenge.

I know in my deepest being that I have needed to let the ground of my heart and mind and spirit lie fallow. So for a brief time, I have tried to resist the urge to fertilize and dig and plant.

Instead, I have tried to be still (at least sometimes).

I have felt the gentle breeze.

I have entertained the creatures and critters and kindred spirits that have crossed the parched earth of my soul.

I have basked in the summer sun in the daytime, and dreamt under the stars and moon on a solstice night.

I have welcomed the rains when they come.

Now, I am trusting that when the time is right, I will know.

And one day – soon, in fact – I will be ready to plant and cultivate my heart’s garden again.