My relationship with Winter and the changing of the seasons has evolved over the years. I was no stranger to the feelings of depression and cabin fever that can accompany cold days and long, dark nights. Over the past decade or so, I have come to love and appreciate Fall and Winter as much as Spring and Summer. Simply reframing the way I related to the aspects of Winter that were difficult sparked a process of exploring and learning that blossomed into a deep feeling of connection to the Earth and Seasons. In a way, it’s like learning the language of Winter and change. Winter becomes the conversation partner, and, like language learning, immersion and dialogue with this partner builds confidence and familiarity with something that at first may feel strange and distant. Over time, the language of Winter and the language of change become familiar and even comforting.
As someone who loves the outdoors, I realized being outdoors in the colder weather wasn’t all that bad with a good, warm jacket and an active body. Setting aside time to walk in nature and engage with the weather and the sensory aspects of the changing seasons was the form that my dialogue with the Winter first took. Maintaining activity and connection with nature’s cycle also led to more calmness and appreciation of rest and quietness at home. During busy times or heavy snow, setting aside some mental space to gaze out the window, or take note of beautiful imagery while driving, or cultivate plants indoors became a part of this process. Even little things like connecting with traditional foods and flavors of the season, holidays and observances from my personal heritage, and slowing down to spend more time with friends and family became more and more accessible mentally as my love and acceptance for the season grew.
Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hahn talks about impermanence and transition as something that is easy to observe in the changing seasons. Impermanence can be a difficult concept and source of suffering when we grasp onto things that we know will end, but at the same time impermanence is what gives fleeting experiences their beauty, what allows plants to grow from seeds, produce fruit, and die back again to reseed and fertilize the next season’s crops, and what drives the cycle of change that we experience as the seasons and time itself. Seeing firsthand the beauty of the changing of the leaves, the graying and browning of the color palette, the stillness and silence as animals nestle down...this makes the miracle of spring’s rebirth so much more perceptible. Without impermanence, everything would always be the same, there would be no regrowth, and no fleeting moments would stand out as sacred.
There is something special about regularly walking the same stretch of trail in quiet contemplation. The lay of the land becomes familiar, and the subtle changes that each day brings are easier to spot. Eventually, you become part of the environment itself, rather than an outside force, as the mind begins to reflect the calm stillness of this old friend. The little things are in a constant state of flux and transition, yet the environment itself, us included, remains a perfectly content whole. Each day, each moment, becomes a season in itself, each moment a unique phenomenon with its own palette of color and experience and opportunity to start anew.
Dan Appel, MA
Mindfulness and Meditation Instructor, Sacred and Free
@daniel_appel