The World-Saving Lessons from Winter
Winter around the world and ways to let its wisdom in
I didn’t know winter until I left it.
After fifteen years in the tropics, winter was my biggest dread about coming home to Scotland.
It is the cold, then there is the early darkness, the late morning sun - if it comes at all. From August, people in Scotland talk about the nights drawing in: as the long summer days are over and the night descends at the early hour of 9 pm.
When I was a child, I thought winter had to be endured. But then I also remember the same cotton socks and leather patent shoes, the same thin sweatshirts I wore all year around (I used to get chilblains from standing out in the school playground). As a teenager, I got very depressed, without much exposure to my feelings, I found they came and crept up in me, when winter arrived. And they made me sad.
Ultimately, these days, I find a peace in knowing we cannot solve or resolve everything. To just wander around in the dark for a while, to use my energy to stay warm, nourished and kind.
Since living around the world, I have seen the seasons move in such different formations - our ‘Western’ idea of their dance is so limited. Really the natural world always moves in cycles and they take many different forms.
In many of the places I lived, the sunset only shifted by one hour throughout the year - giving an evenly spread 12 hours of darkness - yet every place still had seasons. As well as the clear changes from cool to hot or wet to dry seasons, there were more subtle shifts.
In Nicaragua: blossoms would suddenly appear on trees in unison, calling out a change, or in Myanmar: the cool season would appear every December, the Ahh-Aww bird would start to sing and I would wake up early to see the morning mist, almost afraid to breathe, in case I might disturb the perfect coolness of the air.
In Cairo, desert city, the winter nights were freezing, I would lie with layers of fleecy blankets over me, then when the sun came out and surprise us with its warmth. In Dubai, even when it was still hot, I would see the sun dipping the sky, coming around early morning to hit me in the face. A reminder, the seasons are quietly moving.
When I first returned to winter, I rejected it. I shut myself inside, tried to avoid the cold, felt the day ended when it turned dark at 4pm, counted the days and hours till Spring.
Yet, over time, I got the hang of the season. Once I completed the cycle through the full year again, I had more of a faith in the return of summer and spring.
When I think of winter’s symbols, Persephone in the underworld, or the seed underground. It is darkness, spending time in the unseen, an invitation to meet our shadows, not run from them. I used to think that meant depression - but if we are gentle, I found those shadows can soothe us.
I had a friend who used to cross the world, avoiding winter, she would skip from summer to summer, for years on end, until she realised that her body had too much brightness, not enough quiet.
We can run from winter, but at some point, we realise we need it.
Winter has taught me one of the biggest lessons I have discovered on all my travels. Sometimes we have to sit with what is - even if its uncomfortable and depressing- even when we don’t like what we see.
Sometimes that is just how it is. Even though we can see all the ways things could be better, more beautiful, more aligned, less dark. (And when you are working on projects to ‘make the world better’ that can be a hard shadow to allow yourself to see).
Just because we can dream up impressive solutions - like bringing in a huge spotlight to light up the dark, or implementing a new law - doesn’t mean we should find funding and make it happen.
Ultimately, these days, I find a peace in knowing we cannot solve or resolve everything. To just wander around in the dark for a while, to use my energy to stay warm, nourished and kind.
Somewhere our culture taught us we had the power to change things. But not understanding that power leads us to trying to light up winter and feeling like failures when we cannot.
So, this year, I will be cold and terrified for a bit. Look a bit more closely at the darkness.
Because inside it there is a different sort of light. And it is the type of light that offers a way out of the cycles we are living in. Because once we can sit with our darkness, we find ourselves to also be free.
Friends,
Thank you for reading with me this year.
It has been a hard month, so I wasn’t able to show up every week, however, I have been thinking about how to bring this newsletter into 2025 and I look forward to sharing some new ideas and plans with you all soon.
Happy Christmas everyone, hope you have the opportunity to enjoy some time to rest, eat and do something you enjoy.
Catriona
Catriona, I only just saw this. I don’t mind the winter, or the cold, as long as I can have some sunshine during the day. In Geneva, unless you drive up to the mountains, you tend to sit under low cloud for months on end, which is quite depressing. Add cold to that and…, well, when I was still riding my horse I was ok, but since I’ve more or less had to give it up it became hard, so I’m grateful to be able to spend part of the winter in Spain. I love snow, as long as I don’t have to drive in it! I love waking up and somehow knowing it has snowed, because the sound is distinctly different, somehow muffled and softened. We used to have quite a bit of snow in Geneva when I was a child, now it’s very rare, and hardly lasts, turning grey and slushy and yuck. Lots of love to you! Francesca xx
I love this. I am such a devotee to the seasons and in my travels have also always found so many different seasons and times for things and different people’s knowings of what is changing, based on how the landscape is changing, across every climate and culture. Beautiful piece!