I’ve lived most of my life in Wisconsin and am well acquainted with winter. On a recent 10-degree Monday morning, sitting in my 25-year-old minivan, hoping she’ll warm up sufficiently to make it the four miles to work, I questioned my sanity in continuing to live here.
However, I know that accepting (rather than railing against) the realities of winter is a better way to navigate the colder and shorter days that will - eventually - give way to spring.
One aspect of accepting winter is embracing the cold and snow. I can definitely appreciate a 30-degree snowy day. I savor winter hikes in dreamy, snow-covered forests. I enjoy ice-skating at the outdoor rink downtown, surrounded by fairy-lit trees and the city skyline. But, when a bitter-cold blast slaps my face as I walk out the door for work in the morning, I’m less tolerant. Currently, we’re in a cold snap that promises sub-zero temps and double-digit negative windchills. We can’t even safely be outside right now. It’s time to hunker down indoors.
Which brings up the other aspect of winter. The slowing down part. The partial hibernation. Following the rhythm of the seasons, as our ancestors did, living within the constraints of cold and dark, because they didn’t have central heating, electricity, and indoor plumbing.
It’s hard to do, because we live in a world that’s always on. We can be connected via various “devices” 24/7 if we so choose. Entertainment is on demand and instantaneous. News cycles never end. This infiltrates our work life too. We can access our email anywhere. A coworker might even text us about an “emergency” on our day off. Many organizations use the corporate speak of “continuous improvement processes.” Even applying that sentiment to employee reviews. Think about that - continuous improvement! As if we are machines or robots, not human beings.
In our personal lives, we’re encouraged to analyze and optimize everything - from the food we eat to our exercise routine to our reading list. And there’s so much information, often conflicting, to attend to in all of these areas. It’s the tyranny of continual self-improvement. We’re sold the idea that we can always be striving to be happier, healthier, kinder, smarter, wealthier, and wiser.
It’s exhausting.
Can’t we sometimes just BE?
That’s perhaps the wisest lesson of winter.
The notion that we can’t do all the things all the time.
That there are limits.
That it’s okay to slow down, to let things be, to let ourselves be.
In synchronicity, I’ve lately noticed messages that align with this sentiment.
There was this post on IG:
There was this poem/prayer shared at a recent work meeting:
A Winter Blessing
by Joyce Rupp
***
Blessed are you, winter,
dark season of waiting,
you affirm the dark seasons of our lives,
forecasting the weather of waiting in hope.
***
Blessed are you, winter,
you faithfully guard a life unseen,
calling those who listen deeply
to discover winter rest.
***
Blessed are you, winter,
frozen and cold on the outside,
within your silent,
nurturing womb you warmly welcome
all that longs for renewal.
***
Blessed are you, winter,
your bleak, barren trees
preach wordless sermons
about emptiness and solitude.
***
Blessed are you, winter,
you teach us valuable lessons
about waiting in darkness
with hope and trust.
***
Blessed are you, winter,
season of blood red sunsets
and star-filled, long, dark nights,
faithfully you pour out your beauty.
***
Blessed are you, winter,
when your tiny snowflakes
flurry through the air,
you awaken our sleeping souls.
***
Blessed are you, winter,
with your wild and varied moods,
So intent on being yourself,
you refuse to be a people-pleaser.
***
Blessed are you, winter, when ice storms
crush our hearts and homes,
You call forth the good in us
as we rush to help one another.
***
Blessed are you, winter,
your inconsistent moods
often challenge Spring’s arrival,
yet how gracefully you step aside
when her time has come.
I love the concept of winter as a “silent nurturing womb.” As winter for a time of waiting in hope, rest, and renewal.
There was the poem “You don’t have to be everything” by Maya Stein, which I heard on a podcast. A brief excerpt: “You don’t have to make your pie crusts from scratch or fold your laundry geometrically or make promises to anyone, even yourself.” It’s a great poem and only two minutes, so do take the time to listen. (If you don’t see the video poem below, trying clicking on the title of the poem above.)
There was Wintering: the power of rest and retreat in difficult times by Katherine May, which I read earlier this month.
It’s the author’s exploration of “dark” times in her own life and the healing powers of nature. May writes beautifully about the season of winter, both literally and metaphorically. The literal parts examine the winter practices and rituals of various cultures, people, and places. The metaphorical parts look at May’s own life, as she comes to terms with health, family, and vocational challenges or changes.
The book frustrated me at times. Authors of this type of memoir don’t tend to acknowledge their privilege at all. May has lots of capacity, time, and resources for reflection, research (travel), and actual writing. The author feels unmoored after missing work due to health issues and eventually quits her job. And also, she has the financial freedom to miss work and quit her job. She also has the luxury to visit spas, swim regularly in the sea (she can afford to live by the sea), spend weeks at a time reading and watching cozy movies, and retreat to Iceland for an extended visit. I could not relate to much of that, although I did find common ground and inspiration in her writing about the healing powers of nature and seasonal rituals.
***
In closing…
May we embrace this season of darkness and cold,
even as the days stretch longer,
the hope of spring still seems far out of reach.
May we take a cue from our ancestors
who lived more in accordance
with the rhythms of the seasons.
May we find comfort in winter’s womb,
in slowing down, in disconnecting from
being always on and always striving,
on simply being human.
With care and gratitude,
Mary
***
P.S. If you read my last post, you’ll know that I've switched from a weekly to a twice-monthly schedule for this newsletter. You can read more about that and my intentions for the new year at:
P.P.S Continue reading below for listening and reading recommendations.
A few recommendations:
The poem I share above by Maya Stein, I recently heard about on the Cream City Dreams Podcast. I highly recommend this podcast which is all about “Shining Light on Milwaukee Women, One Dream at a Time.” It’ll be particularly interesting to people in and around Milwaukee.
Winter break meant more time for reading. I binged the Annie Hawkins novels by author Jeannee Sacken. The three books are Behind the Lens, Double Exposure, and The Rule of Thirds. I really enjoyed this series about a war photographer. It was fascinating to learn more about the recent history and culture of Afghanistan. The stories also include a nice mix of adventure, family, mystery, and romance. Recommended!
This month I read Guide Me Home by Attica Locke. It’s the third and final book of the Highway 59 series about a Black Texas Ranger. The first two books in this detective/mystery series are Bluebird, Bluebird and Heaven My Home. Locke has won numerous awards for her writing, both novels and television (Empire, From Scratch, When They See Us). Her writing is atmospheric, engrossing, timely, and simply superb. Highly, highly recommended!
So lovely to read...as always. Funny that you talk of hibernation. Just told several people this week that I feel like I am hibernating. I am not being lazy. I am content to lay low. To stay home. To let winter do its thing (cold) and me do mine (stay home and rest or work on simple tasks around home). I am embracing my winter weather as a time to settle in at home. I have actually almost felt like I'm nesting! LOL
Ooops! I pressed return to write, "May spring come soon! But not too soon!" Enjoy your hunkering in. xo