Wintering - Book Summary

Embracing the natural rhythms of wintering

As constant as the sunrise and sunset, winter is a natural progression following autumn, much like how summer springs after spring. Observing the natural world during this cold season reveals a time of conservation, rest, and regeneration. While plants and animals willingly slow down, humans often struggle against this natural rhythm, resisting the urge to pause and rejuvenate.

Life, too, has its winters — periods marked by grief, illness, loss, or personal heartbreak. Everyone encounters these chilling seasons, feeling isolated in the cold shadows of hardship. Recognizing these moments as inevitable allows us to prepare mentally and emotionally, embracing rather than resisting them.

By aligning our personal hardships with the ebb and flow of nature, we not only find solace, but also discover enduring methods to endure and emerge reinvigorated. This narrative unveils how the philosophy of 'wintering' can transform our approach to personal struggles, drawing parallels between natural processes and our methods for weathering life's coldest moments.

In this exploration, discover:

- How the preparation for life’s winters is as essential as nature's preparation for its annual retreat,

- The invigorating benefits of cold-water swimming as a celebration of winter's unique joys,

- And the survival strategies of ants and bees, which provide insightful lessons on enduring and thriving during the toughest seasons.

These insights invite us to recalibrate our perspective on adversity, encouraging us to perceive personal winters not just as phases to endure but as opportunities for profound personal growth and renewal.

Learning life lessons from the harshness of winter

Just days before her fortieth birthday, Katherine May found herself on a seemingly normal outing at a beach in Folkestone with close friends. What began as a day of leisure quickly turned critical when her husband started feeling unwell. Initially brushed off as minor, his condition worsened, culminating in an emergency hospital admission for what turned out to be a burst appendix. His life teetered on the brink for a week, marking the onset of a profoundly turbulent period in May's life.

Understanding the natural inevitability of life's challenging seasons is the essence of this story.

At this juncture, May was already navigating substantial changes; she had recently left her academic job, seeking fulfillment beyond the confines of a conventional career. However, soon after her husband's crisis, she herself began experiencing troubling health symptoms. After enduring exhaustive tests, she was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease, an event that reshaped her identity from a productive academic to someone grappling with illness and unemployment.

Concurrently, her young son faced his own struggles, buckling under academic pressures and bullying at just six years old. This led May to make the significant decision to homeschool him.

Faced with illness, upheaval, and deep personal distress, May began to detach from her routine life. She embraced rest, allowed herself space to grieve, and shifted her focus more to the surrounding world, gradually finding beauty in this altered state of existence.

Her longstanding fascination with nature’s cycles provided a lens to view her personal crises. She observed that unlike humans, the natural world does not resist the onset of winter. Instead, plants and animals prepare for the inevitable cold, slowing down, and conserving energy to regenerate. They don’t struggle against the winter; they embrace it as a vital phase of life.

May pondered on the critical role of this 'wintering' in human lives as well. Her contemplation led to a powerful realization— perhaps humans, too, need to periodically withdraw, to embrace our own winters not just as burdens, but as essential periods of internal growth and renewal. Through her narrative, she invites us to reconsider our own responses to life’s winters, suggesting a profound, nature-inspired approach to handling personal adversity.

Anticipate the chill: Preparing for winter's embrace

In Finland, there exists a unique concept known as "talvitelat," a term for which there is no direct English equivalent. It describes the intricate preparation Finns undertake as winter approaches — a necessity given the harsh and extended cold seasons typical in that part of the world. From swapping out light summer attire for warm sweaters and snow boots, to stacking firewood and ensuring cars are equipped with winter tires, Finns understand deeply that when the frost hints at its arrival — sometimes as early as August — it's time to prepare thoroughly.

Here's the essence of this approach: When you see winter coming, begin to prepare.

For those of us not living in extreme winter climates, the concept of “talvitelat” might not seem immediately relevant. However, even in milder regions, adopting a mindset of preparation before the colder months can offer significant benefits.

As the leaves begin to fall, consider embracing your own forms of preparation. This could look like baking hearty bread and delightful cakes to freeze for the coming months, assembling a collection of candles and fairy lights to add warmth and light to your home, or preserving the last of summer's bounty to enjoy throughout the winter.

Engaging in these activities offers more than practical benefits; it’s about embracing slower, mindful tasks that create space for reflection and tranquility. Whether it’s kneading bread dough or organizing fairy lights, these activities can reintroduce a sense of seasonality to our often monotonous, modern lives that usually demand constant activity without rest.

However, it's crucial to remember that preparing for winter isn't about rejecting it. In Finland, despite their detailed preparations for comfort and safety, locals fully embrace the cold. This is reflected in favorite traditions like moving from a hot sauna to rolling in the snow or taking a dip in a frozen lake — activities that celebrate rather than resist the cold.

These preparations are not a barrier against winter but a way to resource ourselves adequately to face it head-on. Embracing the cold can also be healing; consider the soothing impact of ice applied to a burn. Thus, as winter approaches, we learn not only to prepare but to embrace its arrival, finding in its challenges a unique opportunity for rejuvenation and peace.

Savoring the quietude of winter's embrace

In our modern world, the cold darkness of winter is often seen as an inconvenience, something to be mitigated with warm clothing, central heating, and the perpetual glow of electronic devices. Yet, in the animal kingdom, this very same season signifies a time to slow down and conserve energy.

Consider the dormice, nestled in their moss and bark abodes, or the badgers and frogs entering states of torpor to lower their metabolism on chilly days. For them, winter is not a hindrance but a natural cue to rest and rejuvenate. It's a perspective that perhaps we, too, should adopt.

Here’s the central idea: Winter is a time for rest and contemplation.

Winter naturally coaxes us towards longer sleeps. The chill encourages us to snuggle under blankets early, and the prolonged darkness of morning invites us to linger in bed. Despite this, many of us fight against the season's rhythms, using technology to maintain constant levels of activity and alertness regardless of the time of year.

Historically, it wasn't like this at all.

Historian A. Roger Ekirch highlights that before the pervasive reach of industrialization, the winter months meant adapting our sleep patterns significantly. People often slept in segments, commencing with an early bedtime at sunset followed by a period of wakefulness in the middle of the night, known as the "watch." This time was used for a variety of activities such as visiting the bathroom, smoking, or engaging in quiet reflection. After this interlude, people would sleep again until dawn.

Interestingly, a 1996 study mimicking the prolonged darkness of pre-industrial winter nights found that participants naturally adopted similar patterns, waking during the night in a state of calm contemplation. This segmented sleep, which our ancestors likely experienced routinely, suggests that our bodies are inherently tuned to find restorative value in this rhythm.

By resisting winter's invitation to rest more, what might we be losing? Certainly, sleep and rest, but possibly more than that. Perhaps we're missing out on the dream-enriched pause that allows us to process latent anxieties or explore the meditative states found in the quiet hours of early morning. Winter, with its inherent invitation to slow down, offers us a chance to reconnect with these deeply restorative practices — embracing the season's slow, contemplative nature might just be what we need to rejuvenate in our relentlessly paced lives.

Finding warmth in winter traditions

In the modern secular West, the yearly calendar is punctuated by a handful of widely recognized milestones: Christmas and New Year’s Eve are celebrated by most, and a summer vacation is almost a given. But beyond these few dates, the calendar can seem sparse.

Contrast this with the Druidic calendar, which is structured around the Wheel of the Year, involving rituals every six weeks that honor the changing seasons. Each ritual, from Imbolc in early February signaling the start of spring, to Alban Arthan during the winter solstice, the shortest day and longest night of the year, serves a specific purpose.

The underlying message is clear: Rituals create solidarity and community during the darkest times.

Historically and across various cultures, the winter solstice has been a time of significant celebration. For instance, in Scandinavian traditions, St. Lucy’s Day in mid-December commemorates the ancient figure of Lucy who, according to lore, brought light to hidden Christians in Rome’s catacombs. Today, this is symbolized through the crowns of candles worn by girls in St. Lucy processions, a vivid reminder of the move from darkness into light that the solstice heralds.

This period spawns rituals like Christmas, Alban Arthan, and St. Lucy’s Day, each carrying deep significance around the winter solstice. Yet, any calendar-based ritual provides a crucial pause, helping us mark time’s passage and offering moments for introspection. While summer rituals may burst with celebratory energy, those in winter usually focus on fostering community and connection, acknowledging the season's harshness and the need for collective resilience.

Engaging in winter rituals doesn’t require adherence to any particular faith or tradition. It's about creating or partaking in customs that forge bonds, whether through heartfelt community gatherings or personal traditions like solitary walks through frosty landscapes. Even simple acts like hosting a regular winter dinner can illuminate these long nights, crafting moments of joy and togetherness.

These shared experiences underscore the importance of unity during winter's grip, ensuring no one has to face the season's toughest days alone.

Revisiting the myth of the malevolent winter wolf

In the collective imagination fostered by books and tales, wolves have long been cast as the quintessential villains of winter. In C. S. Lewis's Narnia, they are the nefarious minions of the White Witch, agents of a land unnaturally locked in frost. Similarly, in George R. R. Martin’s epic saga, dire wolf pups foretell a dreadful winter capable of ravaging entire kingdoms.

In modern Europe, encountering a wolf outside the realm of fiction is rare, though history tells a different tale.

Here’s the crucial insight: Wolves are unjustly vilified as symbols of winter’s malevolence.

Globally, there are about 300,000 wolves, with about twelve thousand in Europe. Historically, wolves were common across Europe and the United Kingdom. In early medieval England, the first full moon of January was named the Wolf Moon—a time when, driven by the scarcity of food, wolves ventured close to human settlements in search of sustenance.

During this era, wolves were widely loathed and hunting them was a typical winter pursuit. Some historical records show that tenants could pay their rent with wolfskins, and criminals might settle fines with severed wolf tongues. Such was the disdain for these animals that in 1272, King Edward I of England ordered their eradication—a decree nearly fulfilled by the early 16th century.

Despite their extinction, wolves continue to be depicted as emblems of greed and ferocity. Yet, this portrayal misrepresents their true nature. Wolves are highly social creatures, forming tight-knit family groups where they show remarkable care for their partners and offspring. Generally, they turn to livestock only when wild prey is unattainable.

Naturalist Barry Lopez points out that wolves—and humans—are the two species known for consuming more than necessary, driven by a "feast or famine" outlook. It's possible our fear and animosity towards wolves reflect an uncomfortable recognition of our own excesses and the environmental havoc we wreak.

Thus, rather than fearing wolves this winter, both real and metaphorical, we might use this reflective season to confront the "wolfish" aspects of our behavior. By acknowledging these traits and understanding the wolf’s true nature, we might foster a greater appreciation for these misunderstood creatures and perhaps for our own actions and impacts as well.

Embracing the challenge: How extreme cold can inspire our best selves

Snow invokes a picturesque landscape, yet it is often viewed merely as a disruption. In an era where technology allows for near-seamless control over our lives, it's profoundly humbling to witness how a heavy snowfall can disrupt this system, halting travel and isolating communities.

Yet, it's not just about the inconvenience. Snow encourages even the most serious adults to tap into a more playful aspect of their personalities—building snowmen or crafting snow angels. It compels us to slow down and engage more deeply with our environment.

Here lies the vital insight: Extreme weather and temperatures can bring out the best in us.

Similarly, cold-water swimming in winter presents a stern but enlightening challenge. Often perceived only as a summer activity, venturing into the icy embrace of a lake or sea during winter requires a significant shift in perspective. Yet, this shift unveils numerous benefits.

Physiologically, plunging into cold water can increase dopamine levels by up to 25 percent, enhancing feelings of well-being. Research from the year 2000 supports this, showing that cold-water swimming can reduce tension and fatigue while improving mood.

Beyond the measurable, cold-water swimmers often speak of feeling extraordinarily present in the moment. Such extreme conditions strip away preoccupations with past and future, focusing the mind singularly on the physical sensations of the now. This demands a form of mindfulness, a compelling pull into the immediate experience that detaches from broader worries.

Moreover, consistently braving cold waters builds resilience. It is a practice of confronting discomfort intentionally, reinforcing one's capacity to handle adversity. Thus, regular dips in frigid waters not only condition the body but fortify the spirit.

In essence, the extremes of winter offer more than just a test of endurance—they provide a pathway to rediscover essential qualities within ourselves such as mindfulness, playfulness, and resilience. Far from being mere seasonal nuisances, these experiences invite us to reconnect with parts of ourselves that modern life too often allows us to forget.

Together through the cold: Lessons on community from winter

The fable of the ant and the grasshopper by Aesop has long served as a cautionary tale about the virtues of hard work and preparation. While the grasshopper frolics through the summer, the ant diligently gathers food for the winter. When the cold arrives, the unprepared grasshopper suffers, starkly highlighting the fable’s moral: be like the diligent ant.

However, the essence of this story imparts a deeper message: Winter fosters community.

Aesop’s tale might seem to extol individual preparedness, but it also carries undertones that underscore the sometimes harsh realities of life. Not everyone can always be the ant; at times, we resonate more with the grasshopper, either enjoying the moment too much or finding ourselves unable to prepare for future hardship.

Yet, there is something noble we can learn from ants and another winter-hardy creature, the honeybee. These insects don’t just work hard; they work together. Honeybees are particularly compelling in their communal efforts. Throughout summer, they gather nectar not just for immediate sustenance but for winter survival. This nectar, transformed into honey through a natural enzymatic process, is stored meticulously within the hive’s honeycomb.

Winter for bees is not merely about having stored enough food. It’s about maintaining warmth. Through an incredible process of detaching their wings to shake their flight muscles, bees generate heat. This task is rotated among the colony members to ensure everyone contributes and no one is overburdened. They manage to maintain a cozy 35 degrees Celsius inside the hive even during the coldest months.

E. O. Wilson, a sociobiologist, points out that bees and ants are eusocial organisms, deeply cooperative and immensely successful because of their communal behaviors. Wilson suggests that humans share this eusocial nature. Despite the complexities of our societies that sometimes obscure this trait, our survival too has historically hinged on our ability to collaborate.

From the ant and the bee, we can extract a poignant lesson relevant especially during our own metaphorical or literal winters. By embracing our innate capacity for cooperation, supporting each other, and taking turns in bearing communal burdens, we enhance our collective resilience. The true takeaway from Aesop's fable might not just be about individual preparation, but about the strength found in community, ensuring that no one has to face the winter alone.

Embracing personal winters: Lessons from the natural world

Drawing from her deep dive into how nature and different cultures approach the winter season, the author developed a refreshed perspective on handling life's darker and more challenging periods. This transformative approach, which she terms "wintering," became her strategy for navigating personal upheavals such as illness, career changes, and family dynamics.

Here’s the core takeaway: Nature teaches us how to endure our personal winters.

The author suggests several lessons for embracing our own seasonal cycles of life, rather than resisting them. Here are a few:

Firstly, human existence, much like nature, is inherently seasonal. Yet, societal norms often pressure us to maintain a constant, summery disposition, glossing over life's harsher realities with a veneer of relentless positivity. Social media platforms overflow with inspirational quotes that push for unyielding optimism, implying that we must conquer our difficulties at all costs.

However, just as agricultural fields must lie fallow to replenish nutrients and ensure future productivity, so too must we allow ourselves seasons of rest and minimal activity. Our personal winters are essential periods for drawing inward and conserving energy, focusing fundamentally on survival and self-care.

It's important to recognize that these personal winters are recurrent, not one-time challenges to be surmounted and forgotten. This can be daunting to acknowledge during a particularly tough season, but there is an upside; with each cycle of 'wintering,' we grow more adept at recognizing its approach and better at managing its implications.

As we grow accustomed to these cycles, our bodies and habits naturally begin to slow down in anticipation of quieter times. Engaging in activities that resonate with the season, like enjoying a brisk, solitary walk or a cold swim, can shift our perspective to see the restorative aspects of our downtime.

Winter, with its unique trials, also brings unique joys and the promise of renewal. Each cycle of hardship is not just a struggle to endure but a preparation for eventual rejuvenation come spring.

Ultimately, the author encourages us to view our personal winters not as bleak intervals to fear but as integral, cyclical phases of life that, when embraced, offer profound opportunities for rest, reflection, and eventual regeneration.

Embracing the season: A final reflection

The central theme explored here is our collective tendency to evade the literal and metaphorical winters of life. Often, we strive to bypass the complexities and slower pace these seasons impose, preferring instead a perpetual state of ‘summer’ — a time of productivity and constant activity. However, this resistance may cause us to overlook the profound opportunities for growth and renewal that winter can provide.

By fully embracing both the season of winter and our personal winters, we give ourselves permission to rest, to reflect, and ultimately, to regenerate. Just as the natural world withdraws to conserve its strength and prepare for the rebirth of spring, we too can transform our own challenges into periods of significant personal development.

Acknowledging and embracing these cycles in our lives allows us to emerge from each winter not only intact but enriched and revitalized, ready to face the new growth of spring with resilience and renewed energy.