Embracing the Winter of the Mind

All my years living in South Africa, I had complained about cold winters. It wasn’t until I moved to Canada that I realised that your perception of what a cold winter is, depends very much on where you live in the world. Experiencing the winters here in Canada made me realise that it was never really that cold in South Africa. It just felt that way, because what I had been used to was extreme, dry heat in summer. So, consequently the switchover to cooler weather felt dramatic. Compared to the weather in Canada, the average winter’s day in South Africa feels about the same as the average spring day in Canada. In fact, sometimes winter in South Africa is warmer than spring here in Canada.

It also wasn’t until I lived in Canada that I understood how cold and darkness can affect your mood. I had heard about Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), but I wasn’t always sure if it was real, or whether people were just using the weather as an excuse to be unproductive. I had underestimated what a lack of sunshine can do to your psyche.

We have so much in common with plants. We need care and attention. We need water. We need sunshine. In South Africa people take the sunshine for granted. They have an abundance of it, so they don’t always see the gift in it. In Canada, people worship the sun. Even on the coldest winter day, if the sun is out, people will venture out to soak up some sun. Here in Canada, sunshine is just as important as water for sustaining life.

And of course, my perception of cold is again relative to where I live in the world. We live in Vancouver; which is basically the equivalent of living in the Caribbean of Canada. The weather is mild. Yes, -2 on a cold January or February day is mild compared to -30 or -40 elsewhere in Canada. The rest of Canada makes fun of British Columbians, because of how we freak out over snow. We don’t see much of it, and most people panic or complain when it does snow for maybe a week or two in the winter. In the rest of Canada, the snow starts falling in fall and sometimes continues right through spring.

What is incredible though is how we go from this period of deep slumber and stillness to this vibrant burst of joy in the summer. The moment we start noticing the first signs of spring, people start venturing outdoors. They go on hikes, runs, walks and bike rides. They have picnics on the beach. They soak. Up. The. Sun. while it lasts… It’s such an incredible demonstration of living in the moment and appreciating what you have. The sense of joy at the prospect of warm weather is tangible.

In South Africa the fluctuations between the different seasons are far more subtle and not as extreme as in Canada. There, regardless of whether it is winter or summer, you can be outside and there will be sunshine. In Canada, summer is this vibrant, colourful feast of flowers and green grass, of ocean and beach, of canoe rides on the water, and hikes up the mountain. Winter, however, is this period of deep stillness and slumber. People hide away in their houses, and everything is dead quiet. It’s almost as if the whole world has gone to sleep; waiting again for the awakening that spring will bring.

As someone who has always been quite driven and determined, I tend to be on the go all the time. The concept of slowing down was foreign to me in many ways. However, during the 2020 pandemic and global lockdown, the whole world was forced to slow down and, in some ways, come to a complete standstill. For most of 2020, I kept going. I couldn’t leave my house, but it did not stop me from writing, reading, coaching etc. I just kept going.

Even though the ability to keep going is a gift, at times it can be a curse; especially when what you really need IS to slow down. I am slowly but surely starting to learn the value of really slowing down; of taking stock; of paying attention to my body and my surroundings.

In a conversation with my coach the other day, she pointed out that the gift in winter is that we truly get to slow down. Winter represents a period of shedding what is no longer needed; a period of stillness and reflection; a period of rest and recovery.

A fellow life coach recently gave readers of her newsletter permission to slow down and to rest if they were feeling exhausted. I think in many ways we underestimate the toll this pandemic has taken and is still taking on our souls. We are tired beyond the normal tired. I find it quite ironic how we could hang out at home over a weekend and not feel trapped, but the moment we are not allowed to go anywhere, then suddenly our sanctuary becomes our prison.

Depending on your personality, this pandemic has probably affected you in different ways. Some people have relished this time to work from home, and to not have to struggle with a daily commute and the politics of the office. Others have missed being able to interact over a cup of coffee… Regardless of your preferences, everyone of us needs social and human interaction and contact. We are social creatures. Our very survival depends on connection with others.

So, perhaps the greatest gift from this pandemic, was the realisation that seeing someone over a screen could never replace the need to look someone in the eyes for real, reach out and touch their hand, or embrace them in a warm hug.

At the start of a year, I like to reflect on three important questions to help me figure out what will be important to me during the year. These questions are:

1. What beautiful human experiences do I want to have this year?
2. What will help me learn and grow this year?
3. How will I share my gifts with the world this year?

This was the first time that my answer to question one was that I would love to embrace my loved ones and hug them tightly. Never in my life had I imagined that hugging someone would be something I could not do, and that I would yearn for it so much that it would become one of my top goals or aspirations for the year.

And my answer to question two is that it would serve me to really slow down even more. To slow down to the speed of life, and to notice life unfolding in front of my eyes. It would serve me to slow down in my head, heart and gut. What that means is that I also grant myself permission to rest. To go slower. To sleep longer. To think deeper. To slow down and really immerse myself in the story unfolding in the pages, instead of rushing to finish the book. To feel the movement of my muscles as I run or walk, and to be in awe of how my body serves me. To chew slowly, and really allow myself to experience the sensations of smell, taste, and texture available in my food. To pause and look at someone’s face. To really look at my children as they laugh and play, and to hold an image of that in my mind’s eye. To breathe more deeply, and notice the rise and fall of my chest. To notice the sunshine breaking through the clouds, or the birds chirping in the trees, or the trickle of a stream nearby. To notice the rain pounding on the roof.

This all might sound silly. However, if there is one thing I have learnt through immigrating to the other side of the world, it is how I was not present to my life. So often I was rushing from one thing to the next, finding fault, judging, or complaining, without really appreciating the beauty and abundance that was right in front of me. So many times, I would complete a goal or achieve something I had set out to do, only to jump into the next thing, without ever really slowing down for long enough to appreciate it; to be in reverence of how I had to adapt and grow to create what I had created.

Then, when I was faced with the loss of everything that was dear to me – things that I had taken for granted in many ways – I just wanted to go back and have a do-over. I just wanted to have one more cup of tea, listen to one more song, hug that person a moment longer, sit quietly in the sun for one more minute, really notice the trees and the leaves, the birds and the animals, the textures and tastes of things that remind me of home. I would give anything to hang out with that annoying aunt, or sit around idly in the company of friends or family – anything to go back and just APPRECIATE the abundance and beauty that was there in my life every second.

Most of the time I was rushing by and not really noticing. Most of the time I was complaining or looking for what was wrong with the situation, instead of noticing the gift of that specific moment in time; not realising how so many of those moments would become the memories I clung to for deal life as I navigated my new life here in Canada.

The longing never goes away. Every joyful experience always has a measure of sadness to it, because it’s not the same when you don’t get to share it with the people you love most. Anyone who has lost a loved one can attest to that. However, at the same time, there is the deeper lesson of not letting more of life just slip through your fingers; of honouring those you love by really appreciating your life more as the gift that it is.

Running a business and taking care of two small kids whilst trying to manage a household in the middle of a pandemic can take its toll and so often, I would catch myself thinking that I just needed to get on with it. No time to sit and feel sorry for myself. No time to waste. Just get on with it. There is lots to do. But is there really? Or is it simply what I was telling myself so that I didn’t have to slow down enough to really look at my life.

For my birthday last year, my husband bought me a new Garmin watch with this fancy feature that tracks your daily stress levels. I was fascinated by this feature. Through tracking your oxygen, breathing and heartrate, the watch can determine your stress levels during the day. I was shocked when I looked at my graphs. Was I really this stressed all the time? I knew I was stressed, but to see it visually on a graph, was shocking. I realised I wasn’t really present to my body and to how hard I was pushing myself.

In what areas of your life are you pushing yourself too hard and allowing your Inner Critic to tell you that you need to work harder and longer or do more? What part of you is afraid to slow down? What are you afraid will happen?

I know that I used to tell myself that if I slowed down, I would fall into complete atrophy. I would become lazy and unproductive, and I would not get anything done. However, I have come to realise that the opposite is actually true. The more I slow down, the more I can see what’s most essential. The more I allow for time and space to reflect, and to see more deeply, the more I find the answers I’m looking for. The more I slow down to my life as it is unfolding, and simply pay attention to what is happening in this moment, the more joy I experience. There is so much beauty, so much wonder to experience right now in this moment, if you allow yourself to see it.

Our fear-driven mind tries to convince us that if we slowed down and paid attention, we would lose focus. Or we would become unproductive. Sometimes, we are terrified of what we might see if we slowed down and really paid attention. In a profound conversation with a client the other day, she shared that slowing down and really just being with herself was scary, because what if she was bored? What if I slow down to reflect and realise that I lack substance? Or that I’m boring? How fascinating.

My wondering here is, what if the opposite is true? What if you slowed down and really allowed yourself to become present, and you discovered your own inner joy and wisdom? What if your fear-driven mind knows that if you were to slow down, you would no longer need it, because your inner wisdom already knows how to handle the next moment?

 References:

1. Breytenbach, C. (2020). Getting to Know your Inner Critic. Available online at: https://chantalbreytenbach.com/getting_to_know_your_inner_critic/
2. Breytenbach, C. (2020). Slowing down to the speed of life. Available online at: https://chantalbreytenbach.com/slowing_down_to_the_speed_of_life/
3. Breytenbach, C. (2021). Setting resolutions of a different kind. Available online at: https://chantalbreytenbach.com/setting_resolutions_of_a_different_kind/
4. Twist, L. (2017). The Soul of Money: Reclaiming the wealth of our inner resources. New York: Norton.