Winter cocooning at 60 degrees north

Walking towards the light

My Christmas school reports were always the worst. I was slow to start up again after the summer break, and by the end of October my synapses would fire more slowly while I gently dozed off as the nights drew in and the light faded from the horizon.

Then I moved to Sweden in my forties. And rather than feel into my own natural rhythm, I would scoff and moan about the taciturn, morose winter Swedes who seemed a lifetime away from the sunny summer Swedes of the preceding months.

Until I got it. Until the winter penny dropped.

Less light means less energy. Nordic nations above 60 degrees latitude are genetically primed to move more slowly as we approach the winter solstice. Conserving their depleting energy stores they are less communicative and relational. And while they might not even notice it, incomers such as myself, still going 60 miles an hour certainly do. And until you get with the plan, you find it quite discombobulating.

The energy then picks up a bit for the festival of lights, St. Lucia, celebrated on the 12^th December, a forerunner to the winter equinox, now only days away.

Learning from the northern lights

For the past five years I have allowed myself the luxury of following my own annual cycle and take a long winter break from December 1^st until January 6^th. I hibernate in my own winter cocoon. Some years this reset leads to a resurgence of creativity and new ideas. Other years I just rest and allow myself to recuperate to face the year ahead with a recharged battery.

I create a month with very little responsibility, other than to drift in the flow of the dark as it moves back towards the light.

And I follow that light. I do a long dog walk in the afternoon, catching as much of the light as I can. I fill my home with candles. I make no demands of myself, nor of those love. Christmas can be well prepared and then muddled through.

Clients, whom I appraise of my winter break at the start of our therapeutic relationship, find inspiration in the fact that I try and walk my walk, not just talk about it. They know that in a true emergency they can contact me. And that I was available to them throughout the summer.

I will write a little less this month, unless the winter cocoon gifts me with words that need to be shared.

When the light returns on the 21^st December, I will welcome the dawn with open arms and give thanks for the true dawning of another cycle. But on New Year’s Eve you’ll find me tucked up in bed with the dog at my feet!

So, I’m signing off for 2024!

I wish you all a slothful December month. And for those of you who think ‘easy for her, but I can’t possibly indulge in a winter’s rest’, I only have one question; ‘says who?’

See you in January.