I heard financial guru Ramit Sethi once say, don’t spend more than a few moments trying to decide if you’ll buy a book. When in doubt, just buy it. I sort of live by that code as a frequent bookstore visitor (and apparently my daughters do as well). It’s rare that we go into a bookstore and leave without some new goodie. So when I saw the book Wintering (subtitled: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times) by Katherine May speaking to me in its autumn colored deep orange book jacket, I had to pick it up. Over the holiday break I got around to reading it, and I’ve got to say it’s been a revelation on so many fronts. I’ll just begin by saying that apparently since I’m a winter baby (born in February), I’m supposed to love the winter. I do not. I love the fall. I adore the summer. I embrace the spring. But winter, winter I’ve tolerated until now. Perhaps that will change as I’ve begun to develop a respect for the restorative purpose that winter serves in all our lives.

Don’t get me wrong, I do love the start of winter with the brightness and merriment of the holidays and the expectations of a new calendar year. But then it gets colder, and though technically the winter solstice happens at the beginning of winter, it still feels like the days are shorter and the nights are longer. As a kid this meant less time outside roaming the neighborhood with my friends, and more time inside, confined to a smaller sandbox. As an adult it means battling the seasonal depression and angst that comes with grey skies, short days, and long nights. As a parent it has meant less time outside doing the things I love to do with the girls, bike riding to the waterfalls or playing in the yard with the dog, and more temptations of screentime. 

Summer gets to have all the fun, spring gets the anticipation of new birth, and fall gets the glory of harvest. But winter also brings it’s own usefulness, serving a purpose that we don’t often recognize or appreciate. I’m reminded of the saying, it’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it. Without winter, there would be no recovery space, no opportunity for the new seeds of life to bury, and take root. Winter is our preparation season, and while a lot must die, it’s actually a part of the life cycle of renewal necessary for our survival. 

Since I’ve been reading this book I’ve been wondering, perhaps I’ve been approaching winter all wrong? Instead of fighting against the tide of winter, what if instead I embraced the healing that it brings? May writes, wintering isn’t a catastrophic time. it’s a necessary crucible. I love that she’s turned the process of navigating our literal and figurative winters into a verb. It’s got me thinking about how we’ve all managed to live through literal and figurative winters over the course of our live. What can we learn from our experiences? 

One thing I appreciate about May’s writing is that she takes a universal approach to winter noting: Plants and animals don’t fight the winter. They don’t pretend it’s not happening and attempt to carry on living the same lives they lived in the summer. They prepare. They adapt.  They metamorph. 

Winter can be a time of hibernation, withdrawal from visibility, but that’s also where the transformation takes place.  Some questions I’ve begun to ask myself as I embrace my own wintering process this season is…

What is taking place within me? 

What transformation is happening that I want to be present with and aware of? 

How will this season of rest and hibernation impact my life and relationships? 

My hope for each of us in this season is that we find the best way for us to approach our own personal winters. Winter is coming, sure, but there’s no need to fear. 

SDW3