Driving into Soul Sanctuary last weekend, I noticed the trees were engaged in a wild dance.
I should have paid closer attention as I got out of the car, because the wind nearly took me with it. Walking to the door, I had to lean in and brace myself for a moment just to stay upright. The cold whipped through my clothes and found every uncovered space, sharing its bone-numbing chill.
I’m a bit over the cold, dark days of winter. And it’s only the beginning of February.
I wondered how a child who grew up playing and skiing in the snow could become an adult who avoids the cold like a hot potato.
I’m not alone in feeling that this winter has been long and unrelenting. The cold settled in, the snow kept arriving, and the darkness has lingered a bit too long. I’ve noticed that people who usually move, walk, and gather are sharing a quiet resistance toward going outside.
It’s not dramatic. More like a deep reluctance to push against what is already heavy.
It shows up when you don’t want to go out. You don’t want to muster and you want to stay within the comfort of home. Yet, alongside that is a missing of being outside, walking and breathing, and moving through the world more freely.
I’ve been thinking about how comfort soothes dark and cold times, both with weather and with the circumstances of life.
In Norway, there are months when sunlight disappears almost entirely. People don’t fight the inevitable. They prepare, adapt, and even celebrate the dark cold. They cultivate warmth in their homes with candles, roaring fires, and hearty soups. They strap headlamps on and walk to meet friends at a café or pull bundled-up children on sleds to family gatherings.
Some brave souls even gather at the sea, entering frigid water with hardiness and laughter as a communal ritual. While the thought makes me shudder, I appreciate the reminder that aliveness, in any weather, can be celebrated.
In my neck of the woods, people have grown used to mild winters and a few days of melting snow.
Persistent cold invites retreat inward. In some ways, this mirrors the season of Winter itself. A time to slow down, enjoy the quiet, and allow the body to restore. This is where seeds of inspiration are nourished, waiting for warmer days and heightened energy.
When moods, energy, physical activity, and social engagement dip, there is often a quiet, or not so quiet, voice that says something is wrong.
That you should be handling things better, staying upbeat, being more productive, or pushing through some imagined standard.
What if that story isn’t true? What if this long, dark, cold stretch is asking for a different kind of care, one that doesn’t require justification?
Caring well for yourself in winter invites honoring how your internal rhythms are moving and what you genuinely require at this time.
It’s a season when your system may be conserving energy or seeking comfort because conditions are demanding. Responding accurately means noticing this rather than overriding it. Winter invites choosing warmth, beauty, and pleasure without apologizing for them or framing them as indulgence.
Comfy clothes. Time under blankets. Home-cooked meals. Less socializing and more contemplation.
