‘Winter is not the death of the life cycle, but its crucible….we may never choose to winter, but we can choose how.’
Katherine May, Wintering: The Power Of Rest And Retreat In Difficult Times.
The frugal depth of winter is often a time when I clarify my deepest intentions, setting a resolve from some deeper part of me I may have neglected in the flurry of life.
And why not? It makes sense to me and many of us to reflect a bit on the closing of a year (in the roman calendar). But there’s an interesting paradox of heightened - yang - intentional action at a time of deep inner - yin - rest.
Winter is the season of shortened light and longer nights, nature’s guidance to hibernate as much as is practically possible, embracing the mystery of the dark and unravelling any routine hiding of the soul.
There’s a different kind of activity like the roots of a wintering tree drawn down to replenish, an opportunity for a spiritual labour of deep inner listening.
When this happens I feel as if I’m moving with the current and river of life and that this ancient ecological permission is reassuring whilst living in a fast paced technological world that can pierce into our lives with constant news, information and - let’s be honest - distractions.
There’s a subtle sense of less struggle and a greater alignment with the powerful and loving support of nature and the Source creator.
But resistance and fear at doing this can emerge too! We are landing against the grain of modern 24/7 life and it goes murkily back.
I experienced this deeply last week on a retreat at Gaia House on the edge of Dartmoor National Park in England. I dropped down into the commitment of seven days of consistent meditation practice in silence, not knowing what would emerge but open to some deep listening.
The only 'plan was to show up consistently and be and what came forth was a pandora’s box of landing in the physical gaps of my body’s year long psychic work, realising the further I channelled my connection with Source wisdom (for myself and others) the greater the stretch for my nervous system and human body.
The dormant tiredness in my solar plexus chakra of my abdomen, deeply twining with my dorsal vagus nerves (often where we go into trauma ‘freeze’) and really affecting my hormonal system, was given free rein to slowly integrate back into wholeness.
The layers of deep exhausting fatigue surprised me and then they didn’t! It made sense. I knew I was long overdue this type of slow reset in held supportive silence.
It’s extremely rare to land in a situation where the structure of your days - bedtimes, meals, social interaction - are prepared and structured for you in alignment with the circadian rhythm. Where you can purely focus your will and heart on being present with whatever arises, emotionally, physically, cognitively.
I recently noted to a friend how indigenous shamanic practitioners and psychics live in forests and jungles for a reason! The body has to ground and in some cases catch up to this intense type of work in the wider embrace of nature’s gifts and wholesome restrictions.
New unexpected insights emerged for me and a deeper faith in the power of feminine full-feeling wisdom to reveal the undercurrent of my true soul’s path. And this makes sense for this is often the space I hold for others - allowing their more yin receptive side to be given safe space to surface and be seen.
I realised a simple truth - energy work and medicine, the subtle attuning to the whole aura of another - is a powerful shamanic practice of deep embodied listening, a willingness to go on sacred pilgrimage towards another’s whole self.
It’s a tremendous and fascinating honour and not remotely a small responsibility.
Tuning into our feminine nature - and I see this as an aspect in all of us on a spectrum, equal to the masculine principle - allows us to access what we really feel in our soul-body-hearts about a situation rather than purely thinking into it.
Reflecting on our level of self love/acceptance and any unconscious belief patterns is powerful when we hold a safe slow wintering container, for there’s often energies and neglected parts of us that can be reluctant to fully show themselves in the bright optimistic glare of spring-summer.
And then there may be magic. Simplicity. Something raw, pure and unpredictably calling us.
To conclude from the cold wise depths I’ll close with another Katherine May quote from ‘Wintering:
‘We who have wintered have learned some things. We sing it out like birds. We let our voices fill the air.’
I hope you renew in the remainder of your wintering days.
Cat I love how your words evoke stillness and calm. Your subtle awareness is contagious in a pure and beautiful way. Your depth of understanding how we need to nurture through the shorter days is vital for us all to not just read, but embody. Thank you Cat, you are genuinely inspirational 🙏🌈❤️