Wintering
“Wintering brings about some of the most profound and insightful moments of our human experience, and wisdom resides in those who have wintered.”
—Katherine May
[NOTE: I originally posted this piece a couple of years ago for Paisley Project, a non-profit supporting widows that I helped found with my sister, Karyl. However, I find myself feeling the same way every year when January rolls around. The sentiments still hold for everyone. And so I am reposting here.]
So . . . it’s January. It’s a new year. The holiday decorations are coming down and we turn our attention to a shiny new year and start thinking about resolutions and planning and ideas about what we want to do differently this year.
At least, that’s the idea. I have tried to work at it several times since January 1. I’ve set aside blocks of time to spend with my journal. I’ve pulled out my favorite pen and made a cup of my favorite tea. I have been all set to think about what I want to change going into this new year and how I want to do it.
Except, I just . . . don’t. I can’t seem to muster the energy or motivation to think about new year’s resolutions or how I need to reset my schedule or my To Do List. Try as I might, it’s just not happening. What’s the deal? I mean, this is in my wheel house, I am an organized person temperamentally drawn to self-examination. Resolutions should fit into my life.
After noticing my resistance over a few days, I came across a quote from a book I read a few years ago called Wintering, The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times by Katherine May:
“Wintering brings about some of the most profound and insightful moments of our human experience, and wisdom resides in those who have wintered.”
And then I understood. I am still wintering.
What is wintering? May wrote her book, a memoir, when she was dealing with some difficulties in her own life—physical, family and work-related. Instead of gritting her teeth and powering through, she allowed herself the transformative power of rest and retreat. She acknowledged the cyclical nature of life and the joyful beauty that comes even in the quiet times of winter. Maybe especially in the quiet times of winter.
But we don’t have to abide by the timelines of our culture. We can choose to respond to a new year in a way that feels the most respectful and meaningful for us. There isn’t anything magical about things happening on a certain date. Maybe the energy to form resolutions or make a big decision will happen on a random Tuesday morning in April. Or October.
Maybe we don’t all need to race headlong into the new year with our To Do Lists and aspirational resolutions. Maybe it’s okay to take a softer, gentler approach. What if we allowed ourselves to listen to what we really need going into this month, one that happens to occur smack-dab in the middle of winter, when the days are short and the darkness lingers and much of the world is resting? What if we just took a moment to find the beauty in what is already here?
As poet Mary Oliver says,
it is a serious thing
just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in this broken world.
So I’m setting aside my journal and my favorite pen and acknowledging that my energy for rebirth and renewal is not there yet, that it may take a few more weeks, or months.
And that’s okay.
