First snow, clear skies & cold winds at Crater Lake National Park in November. There are times Grief can feel as cold and biting as the winds were around the rim this day when Winter, and all the assorted holidays associated with this time of year, arrive in the Northern climes. photo by anne richardson.
Welcome to Winter Dear Ones,
Puddles grow by the hour and rivers swell to capacity. LED headlights penetrate my windshield, streaking the rain into mini-star bursts and I wonder if I have reached that age where driving at night will soon be out of reach. Perhaps it is the sign I need as Winter veils us in a wet cloak to draw the blinds and stay in these long, dark evenings.
Late autumn in the Pacific NW was cool and delightfully clear. The deciduous trees displayed a spectacular array of reds, golds, and oranges that many locals commented had been absent in recent years. Moon set as Sun rose with equally colorful displays morning after morning. Now Winter has blustered in erasing the last of the leaves and rain is, as they say, blanketing the region. We need the rain, so I am okay with rain and gray. Just not these blue-hued headlights with their aim to illuminate the roads to daylight intensity staring me down in a game of chicken. New wiper blades helped but still…
I read an article from 2021 in the New York Times, “Blinded by Brighter Headlights? It’s Not Your Imagination” and found out it isn’t an aging thing—not that along with the gifts of aging, there aren’t losses I am grieving—but hallelujah, this isn’t one of them. Per the article, “Advances in lighting technology have improved nighttime driving for many, but the introduction of brighter lights that also sit higher on S.U.V.s and pickups has given rise to widespread criticism that headlights have become overpoweringly intense.” So is seems we have an unintended consequence to the overzealous application of a worthwhile safety technology. AND, because I want to bring this back around to Winter and how it used to be a season of rest and restoration, these new technologies keep our society humming along on a 24/7, 365 days-a-year cycle. Appropriate in a hospital setting perhaps, though if you have ever worked in a hospital, you will notice even there it hushes in the evening hours. So an unintended (or to keep us moving along and being “productive,” maybe not so unintended) consequence of our illuminating technologies, is we have lost the natural rhythm of “wintering.”
I know, I’ve written about this every year around this time. In 2021 is was Lessons from the Pandemic: Invitations of Winter & Grief. This deep desire to allow Winter to winter me. In her chapter on December in Wintering, The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times, Katherine May says, “More than any other season, winter requires a kind of metronome that ticks away its darkest beats, giving us a melody to follow into spring. The year will move on no matter what, but by paying attention to it, feeling its beat, and noticing the moments of transition—perhaps even taking time to think about what we want from the next phase of the year—we can get the measure of it.” (pg 115-16) If I drop the word “grief” in, that feels appropriate as a season too…though I see Grief in broader terms also.
I usually drop into Winter stillness with some ease. Ready for the quiet of the season. My recent move with all the unpacking (literal and metaphorical) has shifted routines. My sense of place. How I engage with the world. I can tell you, this is unsettling and necessary. And how I yearn to be able to sit in the quiet.
So I stop and take a breath. Drop back into journaling (that fell by the wayside during my move.) Release my need to get ABSOLUTELY everything taken care of around my new home. (I’m a wee bit obsessive about getting stuff on my walls.) Say “no” to what doesn’t nourish me. Say “yes” to listening to other wise teachers and guides as they share about how they are entering into Winter. Sharon Blackie in her Substack, The Art of Enchantment, shared how she takes approximately two weeks off around Winter Solstice, including no email or internet. Here is a portion of her reflection:
“I celebrate Winter Solstice more than I recognize Christmas or New Year, because the fact that it is grounded in a physical reality – the shortest day; the still point around which the world turns – matters to me. There’s a real shift happening at this time to this beautiful planet which shelters and homes us, and at that point when we hold our collective breath here in the northern hemisphere, and begin finally to believe in the slow return of the light, this for me is the moment to mark. Whatever else you might celebrate during this season, do think of taking a moment to honor that pause in the long dance of the year.”
And again from Katherine May, another gem on winter:
“Winter has always been an ambiguous time; it’s just that nowadays, we try to paper over the cracks. The dark final days of the year are full of ambiguity and doubt. Who will I be in the year to come? Who was I this year? What on earth should I do about this runaway world, whose myriad sufferings haunt the shadows of December nights?" The Clearing, For Your Stray Attention, Substack, 12/2/23
We live in a world that prefers certainty to ambiguity. Bright illuminating lights to shadows. Action instead of waiting. Forgo resting in the question without needing an answer…because there isn’t often one.
Perhaps the dark of winter brings to light the intensity of our losses. Grief, our shadow friend (you may not say “friend”…that’s okay), is more present. So the more we cover the dark with light, the more we dim our losses. Oh those headlights! Or at least that is the Great Pretend.
I have some friends and family that are entering into this as “the season of first.” The first time without a beloved…human, fur family, or other deep loss. For some it is the “second” or even a further calendar distance and still sadness rises. The edges of darkness, of Winter, welcome the dance of sorrow. And our stumbles. And yearning. And howling that may even turn to laughter. It is all welcome. And it can be done in community. See, the ancients build fires to gather around during these dark cold times. Knew we did not need to grieve alone. Knew we could travel to the edges and come back.
“To Know the Dark
To go in the dark with a light is to know the light. To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight, and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings, and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.
”
It is an invitation to balance these ever more isolating times (re: our epidemic of loneliness) in these wintering seasons when the urge is to stay in and yet find ways to gather. Your community connections may be work, or school, a book club, volunteer organization, etc. And you may want to restrict going out on dark nights or even limit daytime commitments. Want to stay in. To respect the natural rhythm of your body to nest and rest.
If you have children, how can you encourage them to listen to the seasons, especially if they have crowded schedules? No easy way to be with this. And for me, there is some Grief. Yes, my mentor Grief is tapping me on the shoulder, saying, “How can you listen to the wisdom of this season, if you don’t take time to ‘die' like Earth does?” Could I step away from email and the internet for two weeks? One week? How about you?
How do we gently hold each other during times of grieving? Jacksonville Historic Cemetery, November 2023. photo by anne richardson.
As an aside: the last few months have been intense (beside moving). The We Will Dance With Mountains: Vunja! gatherings have been an amazing experience (there are two more before we wrap up.) There is a lot stirring, swirling around. Gestating. I need time to allow for the wise teachings to rest in the deep soil of my Winter body. I’m not sure what transformation will look like.
For now I will accept my own invitation and settle into Winter. Read. Journal. Sleep. Continue to write my almost weekly Substack, following dandelion seeds, which ponders what is stirring within and engages what is going on out in world. I would be grateful if you subscribed as it is separate from this post…but no pressure (okay, maybe a little.)
Oh, and one offering I’m helping to coordinate if you are local to Portland, Oregon: A Longest Night gathering: Layers of Community, Layers of Grief. December 21st, 7-8:30pm at Waverly United Church of Christ, 3300 SE Woodward, Portland, OR. I’ll be tending the labyrinth. I’ll post more on my Nurture Your Journey Facebook page as the event gets closer, or email me for more details.
Please be extra kind and gentle with yourself…and to others as these Winter holidays continue to unfold around us.
with deepest gratitude,
anne
PS-if you live in the Southern Hemisphere, first I want to acknowledge how Northern Hemisphere-centric this blog is! I do know there is half a world that is experiencing the seasons differently. For that matter, living where I do, the seasons are quite distinct. If I lived closer to the equator or poles, seasons would look different…so just acknowledging experiential bias. Anyway, how does the approaching Summer Solstice and days of ample light and less dark affect your engagement with Grief?
For Your Reflection
what does “wintering” look like to you? do you find yourself staying in more…or at least yearning to? are there items you can trim from your schedule to create more rest and nest time? i’m planning on trimming a day off my bi-weekly evening Rambles. it is a difficult call as that is also an important community connection.
who or what are you mourning this holiday season? how do you want to honor that loss? below are links to some resources.
what needs time to gestate in you this winter season? remember, no rush.
usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to being kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others?
Recommended Podcasts:
Francis Weller’s The Wild Edge of Sorrow, Rituals of Renewal and the Sacred Work of Grief was/is a pivotal book in my walk with Grief. He writes about the Five Gates of Grief:
The First Gate: Everything We Love, We Will Lose
The Second Gate: The Places That Have Not Known Love
The Third Gate: The Sorrows of the World
The Fourth Gate: What We Expected and Did Not Receive
The Fifth Gate: Ancestral Grief
I offer this as a lead in to recommending Coffee, Grief and Gratitude’s podcast episode #31, Grief as Portal with Ella DeCastro Baron where she weaves in the five gates as portals. Her story includes chronic illness and being first generation from an immigrant family…so many dances with Grief. Such deep wisdom in her role as a “Grief-Tender.”
And a Hidden Brain episode, Healing 2.0: Life After Loss, with Dr. Lucy Hone, whose book Resilient Grieving: How to Find Your Way Through Devastating Loss, shares how she coped after the loss of her daughter.
Resources for Holiday Grieving
Losses seem to be especially keen around the Winter holidays. News outlets, podcasts, and other social media offer tips about how to cope during the holidays…and you may not have the bandwidth to be tuning in. Here are a few quick links to help you whether you are the person in the midst of Grief and Loss or wondering how to support someone who is.
Megan Divine (It’s Okay That You’re Not Okay) was on KATU’s AMNW five years ago talking about Dealing with Grief During the Holidays. Wise suggestions never age.
The Dougy Center, The National Grief Center for Children & Families, has a “Tips for supporting kids and teens who are grieving during the winter holidays” that you can download. The tips are great even if you are navigating Grief without kiddos.
Coping with Loss has a Guide to Surviving the Holidays While Grieving.
Under my resources page I have a “prescription for honoring my grief.”
Most important is to be kind to yourself. Listen to what you need. Understand “no” is a complete answer. And it is okay to create new traditions, keep old ones, or mix them together.
Final thoughts
Several holiday traditions around this dark time of year reflect a bringing of light back into community. Words such as: Beacon. Return. Illuminate. Hope. are woven into the darkened landscape. A single candle as a guide. A full moon. A shining star.
The “standing still” of the longest day is not permanent. For some winter is difficult with its covering of dark. If this is you, seek out beacons of light: People and communities who radiate hope. Who can illuminate your sadness…not to fix you, but to offer a glow of light where your soul can rest. Find a community of care.
And you…are you someone’s light? We can be both the griever and the holder of someone else’s grieving hand. Dark and Light are companions. Just as Grief and Joy. Laughter and Sorrow. When we allow this dark season to enfold us. To hold us. To rest and nest, it allows for sleep and for dreams to emerge. Our own and those burrowed in the Winter landscape. Allow Winter to be with you…that is the invitation. See what dreams stir under the blankets of rest.
A Winter’s Song for your Dreams
Snow by Loreena McKennitt (on YouTube)
