Wintering

It’s winter here in Vermont, USA. The snow began making itself ever present on these lands on Thanksgiving and since then we’ve had many days with a new white blanket laid upon us. Our sheep are in the run-in-shed for the season, content to graze on bales of hay collected on sunnier days, enjoying the relative cover of the shed. Our sheep know how to winter. Gone is their desire to walk our rocky, rolling hill, picking the tastiest forage. Now they just want to eat, rest and catch the sun when they can. You can see a bunch of them in the photo above (far right) standing in the sun.

I (Chris) am also entering into a period of wintering. Just before the American Thanksgiving holiday, I ended my part time work as a planner. While I had left that career in the spring of 2023, the need to pay for my continued study of Regenerating Images in Memory (RIM) led me back to it for a bit. Having spent 12 months juggling a part time role as a planner and the responsibilities of being a RIM Masters student, I realized I needed to finally end my connection to my previous career. It is time for me to really give myself to my calling.

Rather than diving right into the calling to be a facilitator of healing, I am allowing myself the opportunity for “wintering” as Katherine May calls it in her book “Wintering: The power of rest and retreat in difficult times.” Wintering recognizes the value of retreating into ourselves and into our safe places. Since the industrial revolution we have been trained to follow the clock, to have an unnatural relationship with time and the seasons. Before the industrial revolution, we would move our schedule with the seasons – and winter, with its scarce light and (if you’re in the north) colder weather, was a time for rest.

I can feel the need for this in myself. While I cannot say this is a “difficult time,” the decision for me to step away from what was once a six-figure job does create some changes. Christmas, for example, will be leaner than it has been in the past. But the deep personal work I’ve done since March of 2023 (when I entered the RIM Training program) has changed my perspective. Where I once would have been utterly terrified about the lack of safety my job provided, I am now grateful for what I have. And it is this recognition of all of that work that leads me to “winter” for the rest of December. It’s been more than a decade since I took such a long break. I am due for the rest. For the rest of the month I am embracing introspection and spiritual study. I’ll be playing with my family and experiencing joy as viscerally as I can. Most of all though, I will not be “making it happen” (which is how I used to live my life), instead I will be allowing it to unfold.

I recognize that there is a ton of privilege tied up in this concept. Many of us are so busy that the idea of wintering is incomprehensible. Of course, this is why so many of us need it. Wintering doesn’t have to mean taking a ton of time off. It may simply mean setting boundaries at home so that we are able to get quiet time to ourselves in the evening. It might mean shutting off the TV and reading a book, or taking a bath (and reading a book) or allowing ourselves the grace to go to bed early instead of doing one more thing on our list.

In January we will be unfolding a new chapter for Whole Human with more modalities and more offerings that can help those who want to feel more whole, more complete and more rooted in life. Until then, we’ll be up on our hill with a warm wood stove, a good book, a cup of tea and maybe a cat or two.

Happy Holidays from Whole Human.

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