Mid-Winter: Embracing Vulnerability
Photo by Fabian Betto on Unsplash
What a day to write about mid-winter. Outside my window, the sun is starting to rise above a thick veil of snow. At first it looks like a great expanse of white, but when I zoom in I can see individual flakes gently dance by on a long journey to the ground. While the snow is beautiful, it also reminds me of how all-consuming it can be. If I were outside right now, I too would be covered by it. Winter is a reminder of how truly vulnerable we are in our animal bodies. I dug out some space for my dog this morning and while she leaped around in the snow she landed on her arthritis-filled paw and gave out a little yelp. As she grows into her senior years, her body becomes more and more vulnerable to the cold. As we all hunker down during this COVID-19 pandemic, many of us have become painfully aware of our own vulnerability. Katherine May, in her book Wintering, calls these experiences of vulnerability in life our “winters” and within them we can gain critical insight and connection to what is most important to us.
Deep in the Belly of Winter
“Winter had blanked me, blasted me wide open. In all that whiteness, I saw the chance to make myself new again.”
If we lose track of the cyclical nature of seasons, it can be easy to fall into all-or-nothing thinking and believe that our winters will never end. Many holidays in the northern hemisphere have been celebrated on these days in early February as a reminder that our winters are temporary. Imbolc is a cross-quarter celtic holiday celebrating the half-way mark between Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox in the northern hemisphere. Traditionally, this day would mark the beginning of spring in the UK, however, we are deep in mid-winter where I am on the east coast of the US. Imbolc is an Irish word translated to “in the belly” or “ewe’s milk” because it is the time of year when sheep first give birth, offering farmers the first milk of the year. It also happens to be Ground Hog’s day and Punxsutawney Phil has declared that we have 6 more weeks of winter this year. Traditionally, this would tell farmers the degree to which they would need to ration hay for their farm animals to make it through the rest of winter. These holidays celebrated at this time represent the light at the end of the tunnel, birth, and new beginnings.
Now, you may be saying to yourself, “I LOVE winter. I don’t get all of this darkness and vulnerability stuff.” For so many of us, winter means snowmobiling, skiing, sledding, ice fishing and many other fun activities. In contrast, it also means the warmth and coziness of a fire, tea, and an early bedtime. The feeling in my body brings forth images of a winter cocoon or a bear hibernating in a warm den. However, we’ve only had the technology to survive winter without much physical discomfort for a relatively short period of time. Most of us barely notice any discomfort due to the electricity that gives us light through the longer nights, heating systems that keep us at optimal physical temperatures, and access to consistent sources of food. It wasn’t that long ago that winter brought with it a tremendous survival risk.
In a recent NY Times article “How to Survive Winter”, Robin Wall Kimmerer, a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation and the director of the Center for Native Peoples and the Environment at the SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry, describes a story of her ancestors, “Winter is known as the hungry time, the dangerous time... and people counted their age not by years but by how many winters they have survived.” People had to prepare for winter all year long by considering food storage, firewood, candle supplies, and the health of their farm animals. Humans have developed a lot of strategies to survive winter throughout generations. Families without enough resources would go to sleep earlier in the evening to save candles. People developed incredible abilities to can and preserve foods after the harvest. Some brought their farm animals into their homes for added body heat and to ensure their animals own survival. If they did not prepare properly or the harvest wasn’t strong, their lives were at risk.
Winter Survival and the Autonomic Nervous System
“Plants and animals don’t fight the winter; they don’t pretend it’s not happening and attempt to carry on living the same lives that they lived in the summer. They prepare. They adapt. They perform extraordinary acts of metamorphosis to get them through.”
If you’re anything like me, you can sense in the body a slowing down during mid-winter. There is a deeply instinctual quality to it. A sensing of danger. Polyvagal theory, developed by Dr. Stephen Porges, may offer some clues about what may be happening in the Autonomic Nervous System (ANS). The ANS is made up of two pathways - the Sympathetic Nervous System (SNS) and the Parasympathetic Nervous System (PNS). The SNS is like the gas pedal of a car and activates when the body detects life threat, which enables us to move into flight or fight. The PNS is like the brake of a car and either regulates us back into a safe and social state called the Ventral Vagal Circuit (VVC) once the threat has passed or drops us further into a shut down state called the Dorsal Vagal Circuit (DVC) if the life threat is continuous. Naturally, we move in and out of these states every day but there are times when we get stuck. Getting stuck in DVC can make the body feel heavy, cold, fatigued, depressed, and numb. The purpose of this state is to conserve energy until the life threat has passed. It’s possible that winter may be interpreted by some bodies as a continuous life threat causing it to go into conservation mode.
If you are going through a metaphorical winter, it can feel much the same. One of the key teachings of Polyvagal Theory is that the PNS is deeply related to the vagus nerve and the social engagement system of the VVC. We are wired for connection and our survival depends upon being safely in family or community. Evolutionarily, we are very vulnerable on our own. When we get messages from people or society that we do not fit in due to illness, trauma, disability, grief, or any “other-ness,” our body may interpret this as life threat. With so many of us isolated during the COVID-19 pandemic, it is no wonder that loneliness and depression are on the rise. Our nervous systems are often giving us very important cues about safety and danger and if we learn how to really listen to our bodies with compassion, we can adapt in the face of challenge.
Connecting to our resilience.
As humans, we have adapted so well that our minds have forgotten the threat of winter. But, our bodies have not. One way to regulate the nervous system out of shut down and conservation mode and back into connection to self and others is to directly engage in winter and our beautiful survival system. There is a really interesting trend toward cold water swimming for nervous system regulation. Introducing the body to cold can activate the dive reflex which causes us to hold our breath, slow our heart rate, and redistribute blood flow in the body. The Wim Hoff Method is one example of this and there are plenty of groups around Maine joining together for cold water swimming. If this feels too extreme for you, you can stimulate the vagus nerve by splashing your face with cold water. By directly activating our vagus nerve, we are connecting to our innate resilience and adaptability. After, we are left with a feeling of strength and empowerment.
Connecting to our alive-ness.
“It often seems easier to stay in winter, burrowed down into our hibernation nests, away from the glare of the sun. But we are brave, and the new world awaits us, gleaming and green, alive with the beat of wings.”
When we are deep in conservation mode or shutdown, it can trigger feelings of alone-ness. If we follow this feeling with our minds, we can easily get caught up in stories that we are alone and do not belong in this world. When connecting to other humans feels like one leap too far, we can activate the social engagement system by connecting to the more-than-human world. One of my favorite meditations during winter connects us to trees and their roots systems that grow deep and wide in the earth. Trees have a beautiful way of surviving winter. All of that snow can act as insulation from cold for the tree’s roots. And while much of a tree slows down and freezes during the winter, deep down the roots systems can still find some growth. This is a wonderful metaphor and reminder that even when we are shut down, we have a life force that continues to fuel us. We don’t have to do anything drastic to remember our alive-ness. And just as trees are deeply connected to other trees through their roots systems, you are also deeply connected to this earth and you belong here.
Here are two meditations to try: Grounding Tree and Grounded As An Oak Tree Yoga Nidra
Connecting to our potential.
“To call in inspiration is to begin to see our life infused with spirit, to discover a new or renewed vision for greater creativity on all levels. To call in healing is to resolve the things that hold us back or limit our potential. We all have part of our lives and bodies that need healing, and to give this aspect of ourselves a boost at this time of the year sets us up for a more empowered and happier future.”
When we are deep in darkness, we can be more sensitive and aware of light. We can truly appreciate the sun and its warmth. A beautiful celebration of Imbolc to welcome the sun back into our lives, is to take our intentions from Winter Solstice and begin to plant the seeds of a plan. If you are a gardener, this is a wonderful time to make a garden plan and to gather all of the materials you will need. Depending on the climate you live in, you may be able to start some early spring plants inside of your home. If you’re not a gardener, you can take this same idea and apply it to a creative project. By tapping into our potential, we can use that energy to lay the foundation for a beautiful harvest season.
Connecting to others through vulnerability.
“Sometimes, the best response to our howls of anguish is the honest one: we need friends who wince along with our pain, who tolerate our gloom, and who allow us to be weak for a while when we’re finding our feet again.”
Winter is a reminder of how vulnerable we truly are. To cold. To illness. To alone-ness. But, within that struggle to survive, it can be clear what matters most to us. Who matters most to us. Whether you are struggling with the cold of winter, social distancing for COVID-19, or any other metaphorical winter, the greatest medicine for our nervous system is to be deeply seen and heard in our vulnerability. We’re wired for this connection. Vulnerability asks us to risk that we may not be seen and heard with compassion. But, with every winter you have been through, isn’t that feeling of safety and connection worth it? After all, winter teaches us that we are resilient, adaptable, and courageous beings.