Why we need winter ❄️
Hello!
A while back, my mother-in-law gave me a book to read, but I didn’t get around to it until recently. The title felt full of promise, suggesting it might help me with something I don’t find comes naturally.
TL;DR: I didn’t love it. In fact, some of it felt so tangential (even more so than a conversation with me). In my opinion, it didn’t live up to the depth suggested in the subtitle. But I didn’t hate it either—though, interestingly, even though it’s a huge bestseller, some people did. I checked out the reviews online, and some are brutal. Tell us what you really think, Carol! That said, it’s got a beautiful front cover worth sharing:
The clocks have just gone back in the UK, offering us all the potential gift of an extra hour’s sleep. Did you actually get it, though? I’m writing this a few days before, so I can’t tell you for sure. But as I’m about to spend the weekend at my parents’ flat on their sofa bed, my expectations are low. Many of you reading this have young children. Apologies to you, as your chances of extra sleep were probably slim, too.
However, we do get the guaranteed gift of lighter mornings, at least for a while. For me, this is definitely a bonus, as I find it difficult waking in the dark. I wish it weren’t so. I read this book, listening to stories of those who embrace the darkness, cosy into it, and see its wonder, but for me, it doesn’t come naturally. I wonder how winter makes you feel.
Beyond natural winter—and this is where I’d hoped the book would dig a bit deeper—we have the winters of life. Times when we must let go, grieve, retreat. Perhaps someone we love leaves our life, a season ends, or we feel ourselves shedding our metaphorical leaves, left barren, fruitless, weary. I feel as though I’m in a bit of a winter myself; the physical one is approaching, but perhaps a more emotional one, too. We are preparing to say goodbye to a much-loved person facing a terminal illness, and also readying for a significant letting-go season. It might not sound monumental to you, but saying goodbye to our middle son Jude for six months as he prepares to learn and travel in New Zealand and Asia feels momentous to me.
Reflecting on this book, and pondering my own thoughts, my biggest takeaway is this: not only is winter inevitable, but winter is necessary.
Winter enables summer. Without winter, we cannot grow, evolve, grieve, or repair. As hard as it is—and as natural as it seems to resist these uncomfortable truths—we are not designed to live in eternal summer. This unrealistic worldview makes life’s tough moments even harder, leaving us ill-prepared to face them. We’re often told life should be one long period of happiness, and anything less is inadequate. But this simply isn’t true. In fact, some of the most wonderful people, those with the most to offer the world, have faced down their winters, prepared for them, walked through them, and emerged into spring, changed, grown, hopeful.
You might not be in an emotional winter right now, but perhaps the thought of a long natural winter doesn’t fill you with joy. I get it, truly. I don’t relish dragging my tired body out of bed morning after morning in the dark, nor coaxing my sixteen-year-old out of bed in the same gloom. I’d take summer any day.
But what if we shifted our perspective a bit?
What if we saw even natural winter as a gift, as the enabler of spring and summer? What if we saw winter as a chance to slow down, indulge in a bit of “hygge” (whatever that really means—I’m sure it’s more than a blanket and a candle), and live a little differently?
What if I stopped saying, “It’s so dark,” or, “Isn’t it cold?” and instead embraced the season as best as I can? What if I made practical choices to help me cope? Like getting outside in the daylight every day, keeping up with my vitamin D, buying a SAD lamp for my desk, or an alarm clock that mimics natural light?
Before we know it, the winter solstice will be here. On 21st December, we’ll have our shortest day. This year, I intend to mark it. I loved how, in the book, Katherine describes marking this event and spending time with those who celebrate the winter solstice.
I plan to go to the park, walk my dog, and say to myself, “We have turned the year.” I’ll reflect on the hard things and choose to see how hope has crept in. I’ll think of the light, knowing each day will bring two more minutes of daylight to enjoy.
In this episode, we chat about all things wintering—the practical side and the emotional side. Together, we discuss:
Why we need winter
Why winter can be hard
The problem with eternal summer
Ways to help ourselves through winter
The power of rest and retreat
Before I sign off, as usual, here’s a quote, a stat, and a question to get you thinking.
1 quote: “Wintering is a moment of intuition, our true needs felt keenly as a knife. Here is another truth about wintering: you’ll find wisdom in your winter, and once it’s over, it’s your responsibility to pass it on. And in return, it’s our responsibility to listen to those who have wintered before us.” – Katherine May
1 stat: According to Ipsos, only 8% of Brits say winter is their favourite season.
1 question: What opportunities for renewal or preparation can you see in this period, knowing that spring follows winter?
Love,
Hannah x