Wintering
“Everybody winters at one time or another; some winter over and over again.
Wintering is a season in the cold. It is a fallow period in life when you’re cut off from the world, feeling rejected, sidelined, blocked from progress, or cast into the role of an outsider. Perhaps it results from an illness or a life event such as a bereavement or the birth of a child; perhaps it comes from a humiliation or failure. Perhaps you’re in a period of transition and have temporarily fallen between two worlds. Some winterings creep upon us more slowly, accompanying the protracted death of a relationship, the gradual ratcheting up of caring responsibilities as our parents age, the drip-drip-drip of lost confidence. Some are appallingly sudden, like discovering one day that your skills are considered obsolete, the company you worked for has gone bankrupt, or your partner is in love with someone new. However it arrives, wintering is usually involuntary, lonely, and deeply painful.”
From “Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times” by Katherine May
If you haven’t read “Wintering” by Kathering May, now is the time, my dears! I pounded my chest in resonance through so many of its pages. Winter is a gift and wintering is necessary for growth – even though it can feel disconnected, lonely, and miserable. Still there is sweetness in wintering. There are cherished moments of icy, clear moons, of trusting Spring will come, and of taking care of one’s own needs.
This illustration comes from an essay I wrote for the Winter issue of Woolgathering, in which I described a period of wintering in my early adulthood that began with a diagnosis and ended with a baby. It wasn’t my first wintering and won’t be my last, but now that I know this concept of wintering (thank you Katherine May), I believe that I can find more sweetness and trust in each winter as she arrives.
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[Image description: an ink and watercolor illustration of a middle-aged white woman with blond hair sitting and embracing her crossed legs. She is ensconced by a house of blue sticks. There are a row of four birds perched on a crossbeam above her.]