Winter is the Most Instructive Season of Life

In the ancient world, people lit fires to mark the turning of the light into winter’s darkness and to pray for the return of the light. Light brought safety and security for mere survival. Light was the security blanket in a dangerous world.

We adapted this ancient practice as a symbolic gesture. We use candles today to provide light, but also to soothe us. It’s as if our brains see the soft illumination and smell the burning wax and are immediately more calm and aware.

One need only stare into a flame to be totally mesmerized by it’s wonder and constant changing form, light and color. That soft illumination whispers to us. It stimulates those parts of the brain that are home to emotion and memory.

That’s why the soft light of a candle is often used for meditation and prayer. To quiet the mind. To awaken the soul. To remind us of things greater than ourselves.

Each season holds meaning in our lives. Some seasons, like spring and summer, create energy with their abundant light.

But, the end of Daylight Savings Time in the fall introduces a season where light becomes scarce. The transition can be difficult for some. Many suffer from seasonal affective disorder as less sunlight impacts the production of serotonin and melatonin. Yes, after 100 years of Daylight Savings Time, our bodies still struggle to process the change and the darkness of winter.

Winter is a time for the plants and animals to go into survival mode. The trees shed their leaves and prepare for the storms of winter. The animals store up food or hibernate. Oddly enough, even in the harshest of winters, neither the plants or the animals seem to be bothered by the cold or the darkness.

The plants and animals instinctively know that this is not the end of life, but simply a part of life. A time to replenish. A season to be experienced and not merely survived. And, that they may evolve stronger in the spring when the sky clears and the birds chirp and the temperature rises.

Winter is a necessary part of life. A time for rest, stillness and reflection. An opportunity to grow in the midst of uncertainty.  During these months of cold and darkness the trees shed their leaves. They reserve all their energy and slow their growth. They lean into the wind and blanket their branches in snow. They patiently lean in to the peace and stillness for survival. The English writer, Robert Elms, once said “trees look down on us and wonder why we are rushing around so much”.

We tend to see winter as the end of something. Perhaps we should see winter as a beginning. See, the winter solstice marks the exact moment when half of Earth is tilted the farthest away from the sun. It usually happens on either December 21st or 22nd, at the exact same second around the world. It’s the day with the least amount of sunlight all year and, therefore, the darkest day of the entire year. Yet, even on this darkest of days, the sun still shines in the sky.

On this world day of darkness, many cultures celebrate the winter solstice as a turning point. A turning point from darkness to light. A momentary pause, like the milliseconds between an inhale and an exhale. Barely noticeable unless we are keenly aware.

But, often times, it’s difficult for humans to anticipate the light. Like the first glimmer of a sunrise in the darkness. You must look away to even see it. Even though we know that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the light always returns. See, it’s the darkest days of winter that make spring so powerful.

But, what can the darkness of winter teach us about life; about struggle and about survival?

British writer Katherine May is the author of Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times.

May eloquently argues that, like winter, challenging periods of life are natural and inevitable. She argues that these are the most instructive seasons of life. That winter is meant to be experienced, not merely survived. That we ought not travel through the darkest and coldest of times simply awaiting the change in seasons. But, instead, seek to lean into the darkness and discern the lesson of the season. The very alchemy of life.

In winter, everything is unpredictable. Everything slows down. Everything hunkers down. It’s like the world goes into protection mode.

For May, wintering is not a season. It’s a metaphor for life. “It is a fallow period”. 

May writes eloquently that the “plants and animals don’t fight the winter; they don’t pretend it’s not happening and attempt to carry on living the same lives they lived in the summer.” They simply prepare; they adapt and they withdraw, only to come back, rested, replenished and refreshed in the spring. See, it’s the darkest days of winter that make spring so powerful.

We used to understand this. Back when Sunday was a day of rest and worship. Back in a time before cell phones and streaming video and email and endless cat videos. Back when stores closed, church was a weekly ritual, families gathered and work was postponed. As a reminder of what Sunday felt like, watch this short clip from The Andy Griffith Show below. The episode is called Man in a Hurry. It was originally aired in the depths of winter. on January 14, 1963.

\”>

I wonder if people felt more refreshed on Monday, knowing they had tuned out the world and it’s unceasing demands for a few hours. And, sat on the porch with a friend singing The Little Brown Church in the Wood after Sunday lunch. Methinks the answer is yes.

The darkness of winter is harder in times of loss, confusion and struggle. I recently had a conversation with a friend who lost his 18 year old son to suicide. It was a gut-wrenching conversation with lots of tears. He’s deep into the winter; the darkness. I felt his pain deep in my soul.

But, after a lengthy period of excruciating pain, he is approaching a personal solstice; a turning point. He’s starting to see the green shoots. That little touch of life. That little bit of light that says, “hold on, spring is coming”. He won’t ever be rid of his pain. He won’t ever forget his son. But, he will learn that the light always comes, slowly, eventually, to replace the darkness.

The light that comes in spring breathes life into all living things. The plants, the trees, the animals. They awaken with the energy of resilience, having survived the fallow period.

May you find time to pause in the darkness of winter. To celebrate a solstice, of sorts, as you await the light. To evolve stronger when the sky clears and the birds chirp and the temperature rises. Rested, resilient and ready to begin afresh, empowered by the light.

Do you have a friend who is in the depths of winter? Share this article with them. And, encourage them to sign up for more messages of Wit & Wisdom with Tom Greene.

Did you know that you can get all my articles in audio format via Spotify, Apple iTunes, iHeart Radio and all other major podcast platforms?