A few months back, my darling niece sent me a book she thought I would enjoy. It was entitled ‘Wintering’ and subtitled: ‘The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times’. This memoir/musings by Katherine May was a moving investigation into the idea of using our personal ‘winters’ to strengthen, repair and heal ourselves. As in nature, winter is not so much a dead time, but an opportunity to gather strength for the future.
What I love about winter (the season) is that it offers up clues of awakening right from the moment when the earth seems the most dormant. Buds appear on the trees – dark and hard, perhaps, but buds nonetheless.
Spring bulbs begin pushing up their green leaves in late November – slender flags that promise the riot of colour to come.
Rest
While the earth may seem at rest, it is actually very busy. Trees are using their roots to sustain the trunk through harsh weather and also gathering as many nutrients as they can for the leafing/flowering season. Bulbs are using the cold temperatures to ready themselves for spring. Gardening Knowhow explains: ‘The cold temperatures cause the bulb to break glucose into smaller molecules which lowers the freeze temperature to prevent damage to the bulb. Additionally, small leaf structures and the beginning cells for flower production begin to form.’ Protection and preparation go hand in hand.
Insects, worms and bugs all respond to winter months in different ways. Some, like the Monarch butterfly, will fly south to warmer climes (as do so many migrating birds); some survive by deploying their own anti-freeze in their bodies; some move into homes which are warm or lay eggs or larva to wait till spring. (Source: Backyard Farmer) Many do this after ‘cleaning up’ the leaf matter and refuse from autumn by bringing it down into the soil where it enriches it. Everything is readying itself for a new start.
Retreat
And people too need a time to retreat from the manic activity of the ‘warmer months’ and to reflect on their priorities and goals. If we fail to do this, we simply stumble from one year to the next.
Unfortunately, most of us don’t perform this vital task until life takes the choice from our hands. Often it is a consequence of illness, bereavement, job loss or significant change which forces us (as it did the author Katherine May) to take a moment to be still and evaluate our lives.
It is not always a pleasant experience. In my case, a diagnosis of MS followed rapidly by breast cancer was a clear call from my body to take a rest. Living in the way I did was no longer an option and I would have to find another path forward. As someone of Tiggerish disposition, this was a bitter challenge. What? Sit still and let the world pass me by? Surely, I could push through the fatigue, the weakness, the anxiety and keep going. After all, one can’t do nothing!
In my usual practical way, I set about restoring my health with the cheerful delusion that I might somehow will myself into wellness. I embraced a challenging diet, learned to meditate, read copious books, studied languages, and exerted myself to my physical limits. As a consequence, busy days were followed by days of absolute lethargy, as my weary body tried to regroup. Hours were spent in bed or staring out the window in a kind of stupor. And I felt guilty, because lying down during daylight is lazy, isn’t it?
Well, no, not if you are ill.
And eventually, I came to terms with the fact that I was ill. With a degenerative disease and no cure in sight, ‘winter’ was something to which I would have to acclimatise.
Perpetual winter
There are still times when I resent this situation, but gradually, I am beginning to see the advantages.
My Herculean efforts to get well have not resulted in a miraculous recovery, but have meant that I have not got worse. I can still live independently, write, visit friends and do many things I love. They are just different things from before.
All the hours spent delving into my messy mind have helped to clarify my thinking, making me more understanding of others and compassionate to myself.
My world has shrunk significantly but ironically it feels more expansive. Spending time quietly observing, likes Donne’s lovers, ‘makes one little room an everywhere.’ My home, my garden, my local haunts hold any number of wonders – nature especially so, as its beauty shifts throughout the day and season.
I left off writing this post to take the dog to the puppy park. It was cold and damp and the cloud lowered threateningly. It was the archetypal English winter day. For most of us, that would be miserable. Not so long ago, I would have concurred. Yet, I thoroughly enjoyed our amble.
The air was fresh and birdsong filled it. There was time to watch the sweep of the birds’ wings in the air; to smile at the kids on the swings next door; to smell that peculiar late afternoon earthy smell that always reminds me of the last moments of play before home-time as a child.
Hermione was sniffing her way around the perimeter and enjoying her outing. All was peaceful.
I had been struggling to know how to end this – to be neither dishonest nor vapidly optimistic. Do I wish that my wintering was a temporary affair and that my new found wisdom could be carried forward into a new life? Of course I do and I envy those who have recovered to do just that. But for me, winter is here to stay. There are times when it is bleak, but I also love its stark, raw honesty. And there is so much more to learn.
