Embracing Our Winter Selves

December tends to be dominated by Christmas celebrations. From the end of October onwards we start to pivot ourselves towards the end of the year, frantically trying to finish projects, making sure we enjoy plenty of cosy, festive activities in the run-up to the holidays. We busy ourselves with baking, planning feasts and shopping for gifts. Many of us then pack up and travel to see friends and family. It’s a busy time. Christmas is also, like it or not, heavily entrenched in consumerism. Most companies make the majority of their earnings in the final three months of the year. As the weather cools and the evenings darken, we spend less time outside and we tend to spend more on things that help us to feel cosy. Most families exchange gifts at Christmas, some just exchange small tokens, and some splurge on mountains of shiny, new presents. The holiday period subsequently generates many extra job opportunities and can boost sales for small businesses. There is certainly no denying the ties between modern-day Christmas and capitalism.

It's both an exciting and draining time. I’m very much a child of the 90’s, I unashamedly love all the twinkling lights, Christmas movies, spiced lattes and extravagant gifting that the season brings. It’s comforting, it’s a distraction and it reminds me of a seemingly simpler time. But I’m also a little weary of this way of life. I moved to the mountains to escape the relentless roar of the city and to spend more peaceful days in nature. I’ve realised that the things I truly enjoy about this time of year are priceless; I like the feeling of the icy wind against my cheeks on a frosty morning. I like the smell of woodsmoke, hanging heavy in the cold air. I like baking with winter spices and watching candles flicker in the dark. I like the weight of a heavy duvet at night, and toasting my feet by the fire. These pleasures relate to the ancient art of ‘wintering’ and they run deep within us. Though us humans are not a species that hibernates, we have, until recently, lived in synchronicity with the seasons.

The fact of the matter is, once the bright lights of Christmas are behind us, we’re faced with several months of unrelenting winter (at least here in Germany we are). I truly believe that this is a time to be embraced, not resisted. Someone recently commented to me that the thing they like most about winter is the fact that they can spend evenings at home, curled up under a blanket without a guilty conscience. We don’t experience the same FOMO of a summer evening, when we feel we should stay out late to make the most of the day. In winter we get to hunker down, we have to hunker down. Only then can we emerge, blinking in the spring sunlight as a rested version of ourselves. My favourite way to mark the start of this period is to celebrate the winter solstice (also known as Yule) on December 21st. The solstice, an event which occurs twice a year, marks the point at which one of the Earth’s poles it at its maximum tilt. In winter in the northern hemisphere, this marks the darkest day of the year, a turning point at which the days will once again become longer. The sun begins its gradual return to us.

With a focus on the cycles of nature, and the bittersweet stillness of winter, Yule stands in stark contrast to the Christmas celebrations which take place a few days later. It is thought that humans have been celebrating the solstice for around 12,000 years, as people sought a marker of hope for the return of the sun and a new season of planting. Such an ancient tradition has amassed many different customs, symbols and practices across many cultures. Key elements across Pagan, Celtic and Nordic cultures include evergreen wreaths of holly, mistletoe and ivy, the warmth of candlelight and wood fires, forest scents such as pine and cedar, and spices such as cinnamon and clove. Solstice celebrations are intended to honour the resilience of life in the face of a harsh winter, and to bring communities together at the darkest of times. It is traditionally a time for reflection and introspection, a time to nurture one’s inner world as the cold keeps us cooped up at home. We need this time; we need to stop fully and to relinquish the momentum that delivered us this far through the year. We need to gather strength for a new cycle, and this process requires us to embrace the stillness. I like to think of it like a charging battery, as the hours of daylight increase each day, so does my mental energy.

The celebration of solstice can take place in many forms; social butterflies may wish to invite friends for a Yule feast, to come together around the fire and feel safe in each other’s company. In the UK, many will make a pilgrimage to a stone circle (such as Stonehenge) or other ancient place of worship to welcome the sun as it rises. This year’s winter solstice falls on a Saturday and I will celebrate it by waking up late with the sun. I’ll make something nourishing for breakfast, maybe porridge with plums and cinnamon. I will take a walk and admire the stark shapes of the trees, leafless in their true winter form, waiting to blossom into life in the spring. As the sun goes down, I’ll light a few candles and bask in their comforting light. Yule is a good time to set intentions for the winter months, to formulate a strategy for surviving the dark. I’ll write out my intentions as I sip hot, spiced tea, and then probably spend the evening curled up with a book.

Whether you celebrate Yule or not, it is worth taking a little time to consider the winter as an ally rather than an enemy. The winter months give us permission to rebuild ourselves, if we can only trust the process enough to first let ourselves come apart. We used to know how to do this, and no, we haven’t forgotten, we just need to wake our earthly instincts from their slumber.