The Softest Season: Thoughts on Wintering and Kindness
I’ve always been someone who keeps an eye on the light. There’s a specific, golden shift in the late afternoon this time of year that I look forward to. A signal that the world is tilting toward a quieter frequency. To me, the changing seasons have never felt like something to fight; they’ve always felt like a natural invitation to change our pace, a rhythmic hand on the shoulder saying, “It’s okay to settle in now.”
Lately, I’ve been thinking about the concept of wintering through the lens of kindness. In nature, winter isn't a dead space; it’s a quiet, necessary preparation. It’s the roots growing deep while the branches stay still. And if we’re being honest, maybe we can offer ourselves that same grace. What if we viewed this season not just as a time of rest, but as an intentional exercise in being kind to our own spirits?
The Friction of the Modern World
I’ll be the first to admit: choosing to "winter" feels like an act of rebellion sometimes. We live in a world that doesn’t have a seasonal setting. Our jobs, our calendars, and our social feeds operate at a permanent, high-noon summer heat. Society expects us to produce, perform, and "slay" with the same intensity in January as we do in June.
There’s this unspoken pressure that if we aren't "using" the quiet months to overhaul our lives or launch a new project, we’re falling behind. It creates this internal friction—our bodies are crying out for the blanket and the book, but our emails are dinging with "urgent" requests that feel anything but natural.
Finding the Balance
So, how do we honor the roots when the world demands the fruit?
I think the kindness lies in the compromise. It’s acknowledging that while we might not be able to quit our jobs and hibernate until March, we can stop being our own harshest taskmasters. Kindness is looking at a packed Tuesday and saying, "I have to do the work, but I don't have to do it with a heart full of resentment toward my own fatigue."
It’s about finding those small, pockets of wintering in the middle of a busy week. Maybe it’s choosing to say "no" to that evening commitment so you can actually sit in that golden afternoon light you love. Maybe it’s letting "good enough" be the standard for a while so your nervous system has room to breathe.
A Different Kind of Ambition What if our ambition this winter wasn't about "doing," but about "preserving"? If we treated ourselves with the same kindness we’d show a garden in the frost, we wouldn't expect flowers right now. We’d just make sure the ground was covered and the soul was warm.
It’s a balancing act, for sure. We have to keep our feet in the world of expectations, but we can try keeping our hearts in the quiet frequency of the season.
How do you handle that tug-of-war between what the world wants from you and what the winter is whispering to you? Does it feel like a battle, or are you finding ways to let the two coexist?