Composting is the new wintering!

Lately, my long-suffering body and mind have found a rhythm… apparently 2.30am is the time to wake up.  Great. Thanks a million body!!! 

And yet… I came across a concept called the second sleep a while back after reading a book of the same name – a harrowing Robert Harris book for anyone interested that tells of a post apocalypse world that seems to have gone back in time to the middle ages, but that’s another story for another day!  Back to the topic in hand… second sleep… The idea itself is rooted in history, not fiction.

Before electricity, rigid schedules and glowing screens, humans often slept in two phases. When darkness fell, people would have a first sleep. Then, naturally, they’d wake for an hour or two in the middle of the night… often engaging in activities such as: prayer, meditation, reflection, even gentle household tasks. After that came the second sleep, lasting until dawn.
Historians and sleep researchers have found references to this pattern all over pre-industrial Europe. And interestingly, modern sleep science suggests that during this second sleep, REM sleep can be deeper and dreams more vivid… the mind doing its sorting and meaning-making work.  This is definitely my experience – just ask my husband about my dreams – an analyst would have a field day!!! 

So why is this of interest - beyond giving me some vague semblance of my night time awakeness being completely normal instead of lying awake berating myself?

Well… Because I’ve also been thinking a lot about composting lately. Composting and rest.

Whilst I love the concept of wintering  (Katherine May’s book is another fab read – a lot lighter than the Robert Harris one I promise!!) - the permission to slow, to withdraw, to stop forcing growth when conditions aren’t right – something has never quite sat right with me.  It felt too still… too slow… my experience of winter is often where my creativity peaks!  Plans are made for the year ahead, I often have a fizzing energy bubbling under the surface… a desire to integrate too.  This winter the word composting has felt  like the more accurate metaphor for me.

Wintering can sound still. Composting is anything but.

Composting is active. Messy. Biochemical. It’s the breaking down of what’s been used, outgrown, or no longer serving, so it can become nourishment for whatever comes next.  And this is where the second sleep links in… The first sleep is like the wintering… The second sleep is like the composting.  So maybe it’s not an either or but a both and!!! 

This composting or second sleep phase is where emotions are metabolised. Where insights surface not because we chased them, but because we finally got out of the way. This gives me access to way more than simple hygge during the winter!

The other thing that comes to mind when writing all of this is REST. This brings me to a model I’ve found myself sharing with clients more and more recently… unsurprisingly, given the societal obsession with hustle, productivity, and growth at all costs!
The Seven Types of Rest, developed by burnout specialist Dr Saundra Dalton-Smith, reminds us that rest isn’t just physical.

n her theory she proposes that we also need:

• mental rest
• emotional rest
• sensory rest
• creative rest
• social rest
• spiritual rest

What strikes me is this: when we only think about rest as stopping, we miss the point entirely.  Most of us are pretty good at collapsing on the sofa at the end of the day (physical rest). Some of us even manage the odd screen-free moment (sensory rest). But the rest? Mental, emotional, creative, social, spiritual? Those often don’t get a look-in during the day. So they do what compost always does… they get to work underground.  And often, they choose inconvenient hours!!! 

This is where second sleep starts to make a lot of sense. That middle-of-the-night waking isn’t always a problem to be fixed; sometimes it’s a sign that something is integrating. Feelings being processed. Ideas being broken down and repurposed. Meaning being quietly assembled without our conscious involvement.

If wintering is the permission to stop pushing, composting is the permission to trust what happens when we do. 

In a culture that celebrates visible effort and linear progress, this kind of rest can feel uncomfortable… even indulgent. But biology, ecology, and history tell us the same story: restoration doesn’t happen in one neat phase. It can be messy and often it happens in the dark.  So perhaps the question isn’t “How do I sleep better?” or even “How do I rest more?” Perhaps it’s: What kind of rest is trying to happen through me right now whether I schedule it or not?  And if that shows up at 2.30am… well… maybe my body knows exactly what it’s doing… Even if I think I’d much rather be asleep!!!
 
I hope this has been of interest to you – I’d love to hear any reflections you have but for now here are a couple of reflective questions that might be of value as we journey through the dark months:

• What might be quietly working itself out for me right now?
• What kind of rest do I keep putting off?
• What changes if I trust my body a little more?

 
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