The Call to ‘Winter’

I haven’t written for public consumption since last October. It just hasn’t felt quite right. Every time I would write something, my words felt suddenly private and my reflections, sacred. They wanted to stay curled up with me.

I also wasn’t quite clear on what I wanted to say. Nothing felt concrete. Things in my life have felt mushy and fluid and a word I’ve been using a lot lately, tender.

So instead, I got quiet.

I am listening.

I noticed myself becoming resentful of the social media spaces where “connections” are made. I still am unsure of exactly how I wish to show up in those spaces. There have been some close-call moments of complete deletion. But I’ve just let it all exist and stay for now. I’ve allowed myself to not share much for awhile. It’s felt freeing and needed.

Since about October, I’d say, I’ve been in my own personal ‘wintering.’ This is a concept I got from Katherine May’s lovely book, Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times.

To ‘winter,’ you don’t have to be in the season of Winter, I just happen to be.

Wintering is a time of getting quiet. It’s a time of healing and a time to rest.

Wintering can happen after a loss, after a challenging life experience or a big transition. Possibly we’ve hit burnout, exhaustion or what feels to be a rock-bottom. Or maybe, the world just feels too loud and too fast. So we soften and become our own medicine people, giving ourselves the balms and nourishment and time we need.

There’s no time constraint on one’s wintering, that I know of, anyway.

Drop in.

Take the time you need.

You’ll know when you’re ready to emerge again.

Our lives are not linear, even though we tend to think of them as such. One long (we hope) line from birth until death.

Rather, life is filled with cycles and seasons.

Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall (*all you have to do is calllll*).

The cycles and seasons of a menstruating body.

The moon’s cycles.

Seasons within relationships.

Life’s ages and stages: childhood, adolescence, young adulthood, middle-age, elderly.

In this particular season of my own wintering, I didn’t consciously know I needed it.

My wintering began on its own.
I resisted many times.
It felt, and still often feels, very strange in my body to move from “hustle culture” where worth is measured by productivity… into a chosen, shushed pause.

Finally, I understood.
I dropped in.
And when I’ve forgotten and have tried to move too quickly, I hear the whisper, “It’s okay, come back in and rest.”

During most of the past two-plus years in this pandemic I have been in a state of creation. Of doing.

I’ve been an open, receptive vessel, furthering my education in two big ways: getting certified as a Trauma-Informed Yoga Teacher and then starting a year-and-a-half-long program to become a Holistic Sex Educator. I’ve been creating women + teen mentorship courses and expanding my online yoga + meditation offerings. I was taking voice lessons again and singing showtunes for the joy of it! I started an online book club. I fostered two dogs. I was a pet-and-house-sitter, living in various people’s homes around Austin for awhile. And I had two big performing gigs, one online and one in-person (outside).

I turned 30. That felt big and bold and beautiful!

I was also grieving. Grieving for and with our world, experiencing the heartache of this pandemic and all it has brought up. Grieving the loss of dear ones in my life who passed as well as the losses happening around all of us.

I have been learning (and unlearning) so much.

Earlier last year I felt called to leave Austin. I made the decision to end my apartment lease, pack up my life there and prepare to travel in Europe & the UK for the foreseeable future. This new adventure would begin at the end of September, 2021.

A few weeks before my travels began, I experienced a very strange foot injury that seemed to only be getting progressively worse until I was hardly able to walk.

That was the beginning of what I now, in retrospect, see as the start of my wintering. It was life asking, no, begging, me to “please slow down.”

I arrived in Italy, as planned, at the end of September, with my sad foot and a deep determination to find healing and magic alongside an openness to whatever else was here for me during a time of nomadic living.

Well, healing sure has come in many forms through these past few months.

It’s come in the kindness of strangers.

It’s come in nature.

In walking and swimming in the Ligurian sea.

In hiking the Cinque Terre.

In sitting under Autumn trees in London.

In new and renewed friendships.

In music and singing.

In movement.

In listening.

In community.

In food. Particularly in home-cooked Italian food.

In loving and being loved.

In writing and reading, just for me.

It’s come in connection with an energy much, much greater than anything words can express.

In family.

In staying.

In leaving.

It’s come in the shedding of my own layers.

It’s come in the moments of uncertainty and surrender.

In playfulness and exuberance.

In the stillness and the quiet.

In planting seeds.

And here I am.

February, 2022. Back in Northern Italy, now working as an au pair for a family who have made me feel welcome and loved from the day I arrived, about 3 weeks ago. More on this later. :)

In less than one week I’ll be turning 31!

Winter is starting to thaw. I can feel it.

I am emerging slowly, intentionally, tenderly.

And in those moments when I try to do it all and handle it all and figure it all out… my body’s alarms sound. Typically an illness or ailment of some sort shows up right away. So I go back inside again.

Rest.

Back to the stillness and the quiet and the listening.

Without knowing it, I’ve been building a safe and sturdy nest within.

A nest I can come back to, again and again, no matter the season. A nest that travels with me, wherever I go.

As I begin the climb out of my burrow, at my own glacial pace, I continue to move towards what feels warm.*

“Here is another truth about wintering: you’ll find wisdom in your winter, and once it’s over, it’s your responsibility to pass it on.
And in return, it’s our responsibility to listen to those who have wintered before us.”
~ Katherine May, Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times ~

*Martha Beck talks about moving towards what feels warm and I find it so delicious.

Here’s a great interview with Katherine May on the On Being podcast where she dives deeper into “Wintering.” I totally recommend reading or listening to her book. It’s like a warm blanket, perfect for these last couple months of Winter.