Cravings, Seasons and what is missing

I've had a really interesting realisation recently.

All winter I've been craving summer:

The light mornings.

The longer days.

The sunshine.

The feeling of being able to get outside more.

Then the other day I caught myself doing exactly the opposite.

Summer is finally arriving and I found myself craving winter.

But why exactly?

Surely not the dark or the cold - it's cold enough here in "Blighty" at the moment.

So it got me thinking.

Is it actually winter I'm craving, or is it some quality of winter that I desire instead?

It reminded me of comfort food.

When we crave comfort food, we know it's not really the food we're craving. We're craving the "comfort". The food just becomes the vehicle through which we try to give ourselves that feeling.

Yet if we dig a little deeper, we can often uncover the truth behind the craving and support ourselves in the way we're truly asking to be supported, rather than simply suppressing the need.

And that got me thinking.

What does this craving actually tell me?

Because if I'm craving summer in winter and winter in summer, maybe the craving isn't actually about the season at all.

One of the things I often explore through Intuology is that a craving is information. It doesn't automatically mean that the thing we're craving is the answer. Sometimes it's pointing towards something deeper. When we become curious about what cravings are telling us, we often discover that the craving itself isn't the message at all.

So when I say I'm craving winter, what am I really craving?

It's not Christmas.

It's not dark evenings.

It's not freezing temperatures. (That's a dead cert!)

It's the qualities that winter represents for me.

The slowing down.

The going within.

The incubation.

The reflection.

The permission to stop striving and simply be for a while.

And what's interesting is that as I've been reflecting on this, we're also moving towards the dark moon.

Our inner winter.

It's our naturally introspective phase. A phase that invites us to pause and take stock.

So perhaps what I'm experiencing isn't a craving for winter at all. Perhaps it's a part of me recognising that I need more of what winter represents.

More space.

More stillness.

More reflection.

More relationship with myself.

And this is interesting because, what if:

Instead of immediately acting on our cravings, what might happen if we became curious about them?

If we were to communicate with it we could ask:

What is this craving trying to show me?

What quality is missing from my life right now?

What relationship is asking for attention?

Because perhaps the craving itself isn't the message.

Perhaps it's simply pointing towards the message. 

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Julie's Journal