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As the wheel turns to the north in my tradition, the time of winter, death, and hardship, I have been paying close attention to my feelings and emotions at this time of year, really leaning in and attempting to make sense of my experiences. I can literally feel the darkness calling me. This darkness is not fearful or alien, but rather, manifests as a need to surround myself with dark things – whether that’s my clothing choices, or the way I dress my altar, or the kinds of films or series I watch. I feel an attraction to dark imagery, winter scenes, and death themes; not from any depressive or sociopathic perspective, but rather from the strange, enshrouding comfort they gift to me. I sense the promise of being gently held by the death-sleep, or concepts of hibernation or gestation, peacefully resting with the earth until rebirth is initiated with the coming of spring. I long for candlelight, preferring it to unnatural, electrical lighting. Candlelight seems to emphasise the darkness while simultaneously providing illumination.

 

This seems like a metaphor for meditative introspection if ever I heard one. The whole experience of the dark half of the year is, for me, filled with a deep sense of yearning and purpose, and it feels aeons old within me. I also feel the frustration of knowing that my ancestors knew far better how to deal with these experiences, and that much of their knowledge is lost, and anything I do discover can only be re-construction at best. However, re-construction is better than nothing at all, and so I am surrendering to the feelings and allowing whatever my Spirit urges me to do or feel.

 

Not surprisingly, at this time of year, many people begin experiencing symptoms of seasonal affective disorder (SAD). The lack of sunlight and longer nights can disrupt our circadian rhythms and hormonal balance, leading to low mood, lethargy, changes in appetite, and a desire to withdraw socially. These symptoms can make winter an isolating and challenging time for the many individuals impacted by SAD. What makes matters worse is that overall, we have forgotten how to respond spiritually to this darkness, or we don’t realise that we can. We try to push it away, or ‘cure’ it with medication, or we may simply surrender, as many sufferers do, to the depressive aspect, seeing it as inevitable, rather than recognising it as our cue to rest and introspect.

 

But what if we intentionally embraced the darkness rather than trying to fight against nature’s cycles? By proactively changing our mindset and behaviour to align with winter’s introspective energies, we might relieve some of the symptoms of SAD. Instead of being frustrated by the cold and reduced sunlight, we can create rituals to honour our need for restoration during nature’s fallow season.

 

This is a good time to develop contemplation practices so that we can listen to what our soul is calling for right now. Maybe that means waking up later to account for longer nights or scheduling more down time rather than filling every evening with plans. Perhaps we can take a meditative walk outside, reflecting on all we see. We might try mood-boosting activities like meditating by candlelight, taking warm herbal baths, cooking comforting soups and stews, writing a reflective journal or our first novel, or doing crafting projects that connect us to seasonal themes or nature spirits.

 

The long nights are ideally suited for introspection, ritual, writing, and visioning. If we can take the time to be still, to attune to the quiet wisdom that often arises in silence and listen for our inner voice, then we may hear that voice offering clarity about our path ahead. We can implement dreamwork to help interpret messages and symbolism that are unique to us. I frequently indulge in a ‘winter project’, using the time to learn a new skill or study more deeply something that I’m really interested in.

 

This year, it’s the cross-over between Anglo-Saxon and Early Medieval British cosmological beliefs. I also use this time to work on my fitness and strength. According to the Old Irish cosmological map I adhere to, the north is also the place of battle and conflict, and the place where the strength of the warrior is tested. A strong body improves life expectancy, so taking time to build our core strength at home through functional movement, hand weights/kettle bells, or bodyweight exercises, is a great way to keep dopamine and serotonin levels up and keep our bodies mobile and strong.

 

The winter is a period of incubation, so we must trust in the process even if we initially perceive it as being lost in the dark. In recognising that we are not ‘lost’ but instead resting or gestating, winter energy becomes a strong ally, a cocoon phase that allows us to emerge renewed and even transformed when the sun’s strength returns. By harmonising ourselves with nature’s rhythms, seasonal depression gives way to seasonal reflection. Light gives way to darkness, activity to retreat; our mental health will certainly benefit from accepting winter’s unique gifts and surrendering to its medicine of death and preparation for rebirth.

 

Many cultures and spiritual traditions, including our own, have seen this dark time as one of going within. In the cold and dark, animals hibernate in their burrows and trees and plants turn their energy inward to rest in preparation for renewed growth in spring. In echoing these processes, we too can use this fallow season to turn our gaze inward, reflecting on the past year while laying the spiritual groundwork for rebirth and what we want to achieve when the new ‘work’ cycle begins.

 

Rather than fighting against the lack of outer light, we can embrace metaphorical darkness through ritual and ceremony. Try performing rituals of cleansing, of release, and of planting the seeds for future growth. Consider learning about other earth-based traditions that honour this liminal space through their stories, songs, and symbols that recognize our humanity while connecting to something greater. By leaning into the mystery instead of demanding certainty, we let the universe know that we are ready to surrender to our metaphorical ‘death’, and in doing so, prepare ourselves for our powerful re-emergence. The dying and rebirth of the natural world gives us an important spiritual lesson - without darkness, there is no light. Hardship helps us to appreciate ease, winter's slumber allows for spring's radiance. If we are patient and nurture our inner light through this season, we will surely emerge renewed.

 

‘The colour of springtime is flowers; the colour of winter is in our imagination.’ – Terri Guillemets