In the natural world, there are cycles to all living things. A seed finds its way to the soil. The nutrients of the soil combined with the sun and rain support germination and growth. The plant flowers and eventually bears fruit. Then the plant either enters a state of dormancy, or the plant dies. Some plants are made to live only one growing season. Others return each year to bear flower and fruit. Some return every other year. And a rare few enter a dormant period for many years, while some require drastic states of nature for germination and growth. The seeds of the Giant Sequoia, for example, only germinate after they have been subjected to fire, and many desert plants sequester underground, often for many years, until the rain comes.

Written in the DNA of every living thing is the cycle of its natural life – a time to live and a time to die, a time to work and a time to rest. The same is true of human beings, especially as it relates to the gifts (fruits) we bring to our lived experience. In the same way that our life has a beginning and an end, so too do our cycles of productivity and creativity.

In a world in which we are conditioned to believe that our value is dependent upon our productivity, when we find ourselves in fallow times, we are prone to judging ourselves and forcing ourselves to produce and create. The harder we work to produce, the more frustrated we become and the more our creativity suffers. Like the fruit of a plant, our creative contributions to the human experience cannot be forced. Whether our creative contribution is parenthood, painting, teaching, counseling, writing, singing, speaking, managing, organizing, healing, providing service, administrating, craftsmanship, or any other outward form of producing, it cannot be forced. This is especially true in the times we are meant to lie dormant.

Dormancy most often comes after times of intensive output – times in which we have been actively producing. As is true of nature, dormancy can also follow times of enormous stress or after we’ve suffered trauma. Like a plant that has finished its growing season, or that has been traumatized by the violence of nature (flood, drought, etc.), we need time to rest and recover before we are able to produce again.

Contrary to our capitalistic conditioning, fallow times are not bad. Instead, they are deeply necessary for our own health and for the good of humanity and the planet. When fallow times present themselves, we do ourselves good by surrendering to them – which I know is quite difficult.

To embrace and receive the fruits of our own periods of dormancy, we need to undo all the conditioning that has told us our value is based on our productivity. We have to exorcise ourselves of the messages that suggest that in surrendering to dormancy, we are being lazy, that we might be depressed, or that there is something wrong with us and with our inaction. We have to silence the voices both outside of us and in our own heads that insist that doing nothing is wrong.

During times of dormancy, the only task required of us is to simply be. To be with the inaction. To endure the naysaying. To dive into our discomfort. To resist the pressure to do and allow our souls the precious time they need to rest and restore. Only in surrendering to the fallow time do the seeds of new life that are waiting within us receive the nourishment and energy they need to come forth in their own divinely-ordained time – and not a second before. In embracing our fallow times, we are providing the foundation upon which our next cycle of life will bloom vibrantly and abundantly – if only we have the patience and trust to wait.