Running into Spring on the Wisdom of Winter

Let us stand still on the turning of the year,

To listen to the sigh of the earth as it sleeps,

Dreaming of the sun’s return.

Let us be still in the darkness,

To hear the quiet pulse of life beneath the snow,

Preparing for the stirrings of spring.

Winter Solstice by John Mathews 

Frozen Winter

For the first time ever, as we move into spring, I don’t feel the immense relief I usually feel. Instead, I feel this overwhelming gratitude for the winter months.

Spring has for a long time been my favourite season. And I suspect for many, it is, even if they are not consciously aware of why. With spring comes rebirth. The absence of colorful flowers, warmth and light from the sun, and reduced time spent in nature consciously or unconsciously takes its toll on us all. With spring, we start to see these things come back in, and we can’t help but feel lighter and grateful for these gifts nature so beautifully provides us.

However, what if we’ve missed the point completely?

For the first time ever this winter, I followed nature’s lead. The natural world around me was going into hibernation, and so did I. I let the winter in.

“Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

With noise, artificial lights, and the busyness of the material world, it’s so easy to miss this invitation. Yet, even though we press on—we ramp up the social calendar, we take on more work projects, we set January resolutions. Enforcing more demands on ourselves during a time when we’re being asked to slow down, turn down the noise, the lights, and take time to go inwards.

During winter, despite its outward growth halting, the roots of trees continue to grow slowly, preparing for the return of spring.

Sping Blossom

Nature has this remarkable way of forcing this on us through coughs, colds, flus, and other viral nasties. Things that disrupt our status quo and force us to slow down. This winter, I took the bait.

Having spent the first half of winter, like much of the world, busying myself with festive demands—trying to enjoy it as much as I could despite the constant tug at my heart saying, this isn’t what Christmas is all about. I still ploughed on, doing what I thought life was demanding of me, but instead completely ignoring my natural rhythms.

We fuel ourselves forward with stimulants like caffeine, sugar, and rigorous exercise. And those who still feel an inner tug may dull this with booze, binge-scrolling/watching, etc.

“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.” — Anne Lamott

Our bodies are an intelligent system, always trying to draw us back to balance. And my body had had enough. It caught a nasty virus that did not seem to want to leave. I was forced to listen. Historically, I would have taken all the painkillers and got on with it. But this time, I didn’t. I took time off work, slept when I wanted to sleep, ate things that helped me heal, got outside, and saw nature.

I saw nature resting. The trees don’t resist their shedding of leaves; they simply let it happen. The trees are wise enough to know the importance of winter. That this wintering process will provide fuel for the rest of the year.

“When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Ideas, language, even the phrase ‘each other’ doesn’t make any sense.” — Rumi

Grass eye view

This winter, I accepted the invitation (eventually), and I slowed down with nature. I took time to reflect. I witnessed certain patterns playing out that were unhelpful and had for a long time been overlooked. I had some difficult but necessary conversations with myself and others. I let myself feel all the things I had been holding down. I cried, I raged, I laughed, I danced, I sang, I walked, I wrote, I shouted & screamed feeling isn’t always pretty, but as the old saying goes: if you don’t allow yourself to feel the bad, you rob yourself of the good too.

So I let it all in, I let it affect me. Sometimes I just sat with it in reflection. Sometimes I wrote it down. Sometimes I shared it with people close to me. More often than not, there were no words for what I was feeling, and so, of course, I yoga’d. But I also sought help and guidance. Inspirational and nurturing writers provided wisdom and insight. I listened to music & I read poetry to soothe the soul.

I spent lots of time with nature, who would always provide signs that winter was just a phase, and that spring would return. And I would, alongside nature, eventually come out of the darkness of winter and into the light of spring anew.

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” — Anaïs Nin

We, like the trees, can continue to grow indefinitely if we choose to.

I went for my first run in a very long time this week. It brought a tear to my eye—not just because it was bloody difficult, but because for the first time, I wasn’t running away from myself. I was running towards myself.

Spring is the time of renewal. This is the time to set resolutions and goals. Winter is the time for slowing down and shedding—it lays the foundations for the spring and summer months ahead.

And so after my absence this winter, I’m running into spring alongside you, with a newfound love for winter.

Grape hyacinth