Fall is normally my favorite season. Most years, I enjoy the shift from the heat and humidity of summer into more comfortable temperatures. Here in southern Wisconsin, the vibrant colors of autumn often provide breathtaking scenery in the Baraboo Hills.
This year has been tougher. The shorter days and longer periods of darkness have been shocking to my system. Along with the chill in the house from turning my thermostat down overnight, it’s harder to get out of bed in the morning. Because I don’t like cold weather, it’s more challenging to walk in nature.
As a result, I feel the energy in my body slowing down. The motivation to get out and be active and do things and see people has waned, and I’m left with a desire to stay home, rest, take care of projects around the house, and be quiet.
In this, I can feel the accumulated wisdom of generations of my hardy Northern European ancestors. To them, winter was a slower time. Other than taking care of the necessities like feeding and watering the livestock, cooking, and chopping firewood, they would have used this as an opportunity to rest before the activity of spring and summer. With only candles and a fireplace for light, they would have slept more. And with no access to fresh vegetables or electricity for refrigeration, they would have eaten differently – far more starchy root vegetables like potatoes and turnips which lasted longer in their root cellars. This explains why my body craves carbs and comfort food this time of year.
In normal times I can deal with the challenges of knowing that winter soon arrive, but this year it’s been more difficult. Part of me fears a repeat of last year when I was isolated and unwell due to health issues on top of the pandemic.
Some beautiful deep inner healing came out of that time. I let go of walls around my heart and opened further. I grew my hair and embraced my softer, more vulnerable feminine side. I healed some trauma and felt more safe to be seen in the world.
I find myself curious about where my inner journey will take me this year. At the same time, another part of me is in resistance to going within. In the stillness of winter, there is plenty of space for reflection and what is ready to be shifted arises naturally. Deep personal work is beautiful, but it’s not easy. It comes with pain.
I am grateful for my prior experiences on my spiritual path because I can trust the process will lead somewhere greater than I can imagine. I recognize too that all things change. The discomfort of growth will be temporary, and something beautiful will blossom once the pain passes. When I listen, I can hear the quiet inner voice of my soul whispering to me, guiding me forward, giving me the strength and courage to move past my fears. And I feel my helping spirits with me, supporting me and sharing their wisdom.
And I am reminded that I know how to take care of myself. I know how to bundle up and go out for walks even in the cold and snow. I know how to cook healthy comfort food. I know how to reach out to friends. I know to be kind and gentle with myself on days when not much gets done.
I know to plan “biscuits” so I have things to look forward to and change up the normal routine. For me, my favorite biscuits are with friends – having dinner, going on a day trip or a hiking date, playing cards or games. And who knows. Maybe this will finally be the year I take up snowshoeing.
This work is real, and it matters.
(This photo was taken several years ago at the Merrimac Preserve/Riverland Conservancy, a great place to walk in winter. Although there a few snowflakes in the air as I write this, we have not yet had an appreciable snowfall.)
November 12, 2021