How To Feel Held and Nourished During Cold, Long Days
What is your relationship with winter?
You’re not alone if winter isn’t your favorite time of year. It certainly can feel dreary as we go about trying to stay committed to the daily grind of modern culture and living. For many of us, all of our daylight hours are spent indoors in front of a screen, tending to the work that pays our bills. This work keeps the lights on and food on our tables–worthy work indeed. However, many of us miss feeling the warmth of the sun on our skin, and watching the sunset from the comfort of our homes, or, if we’re lucky, experiencing the sunset on a trail nearby.
And yet, something deep down inside of us longs to align with winter’s rhythms–to make more time for sleep and rest, to eat less and contemplate more. We crave the quiet stillness that is a rarity in our modern culture. The silver lining of massive snow storms is the very valid excuse to be at home rather than going out for more social stimulation.
LEAN INTO QUIET STILLNESS: Rest and Contemplate
The wisdom of winter is her quiet stillness–even when mighty storms slow down our modern pace, she bestows more quiet padding around us. If we want to feel held and nourished by winter, we can’t keep expecting her to be like spring or summer, full of growth and movement. If we lean into winter, we remember that rest is a delicious time of year.
Living in alignment with winter often means we sleep longer and eat less. It is a thin time of year when our nomadic and agricultural ancestors had to make everything last for a few months rather than continuing a pace of rapid consumption. We get to push pause on consuming everything: food, endless information and news cycles, travel, fitness, and, yes, even wellness culture. The limitations of winter are a generous invitation to slow down and liberate ourselves from endless lists.
We step back and make time for contemplation, rather than endless and tiring analysis. We go deeper, not just making goals to climb a mountain, but to ask if we’re climbing the right mountain for us in the first place. Many of us are afraid to even ask if we’re climbing the right mountain for us, feeling the pressure to provide for our family or achieve someone else’s definition of success. Perhaps this is why some of us fear winter, she asks us to step back and evaluate it all in the still, quiet darkness.
If we lean into winter, rather than resisting her rhythms, we’ll be surprised to find a deep inner compassion waiting to help nourish and realign us with our longings to live the life we want to live.
THE INNER LIFE: Compassionate Inquiry
Winter allows us to slow down enough to find self-compassion, to gently ask ourselves why we’re so driven and burnt out. What mountain are we climbing? What mountain do we really want to climb? What am I doing to prepare myself to endure a lifelong climb?
All of these questions help me remember that when I climb a mountain, it’s not just about getting to the top. I want a relationship with the mountain–a romantic one. I want to know every plant, tree, and animal. I want to know what it feels like in every season. I want to trust myself on the mountain, and I want to know the mountain welcomes me and knows me. I want to be able to take my time reaching not only its heights, but its depths.
Given our modern cultural environment, of course many of us are climbing mountains that we’re not really in love with. We’re climbing a mountain because we think it will provide certainty, security, and praise. We’re climbing mountains that keep us attached to our past–still trying to win the approval of parental figures or other caretakers. Long ago, in order to stay attached to our families and communities, we sacrificed our authenticity.
Here we are. Now. In the present. And it’s not only safe to reclaim our authenticity and all its accompanying dreams and gifts, but it’s the only way to be truly safe. Just as in mountain climbing, you have to know when to turn around and give up the summit if it’s not safe. If you find yourself climbing a mountain you never wanted to climb in the first place, you’re not going to feel truly satisfied even if you do reach the summit.
It’s ok to admit to yourself you’re not climbing the mountain of your dreams. It’s also ok to keep climbing for now–it’s good training for when you do finally arrive at a place where you’re willing to come down off that mountain, and begin climbing the mountain your heart desires. Let winter be a season to slow down and ask yourself, compassionately, what mountain you really want to climb.
