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I am initially drafting this on the day of the Twin Cities’ first snow of the season. Returning home from work, light flakes of snow meandered down from the sky, falling gently to the ground where, almost instantly, they melted, dispersing back into the earth. Despite the myriad ways I know this weather change will cause my disabilities to flare and make my life harder, I still find myself filled with wonder at the existence of such fragile crystallized water.
As a person very much not indigenous to this place, it’s easy to slip into the mindset of Me vs The Weather. The very real threats of frostbite, hypothermia, and paradoxical undressing add sufficient fuel to that train of thought. But as I think more and more about the ways nature can be our teacher, I find myself pulling so many lessons from these ephemeral flakes.
I know there are many others like me (including a professor who’s likely reading this post, hi!) who struggle with the transition to cold. These are lessons I have learned from sitting with the snow. Take from them what you will, and please, listen to the snow yourself. See what open secrets it imparts to you.
Table of Contents:
Give thanks for the warmer months
I have no doubt that peoples who live in tropical climes have a deep respect for their warm temperatures. There is, however, a different sort of appreciation for warmth when you also get familiar with its absence. Especially in Minnesota, where half of the year is spent in a torrid love affair with sub-freezing temperatures, and our transitional seasons of autumn and spring flit past like a hummingbird on a quest for nectar.
In these months when the warmth recedes and the sun visits us less and less, we are not being punished. The darkness is not here to drag us down or deplete us. It is to remind us to give care to ourselves, and to give thanks for the warmer months.
Even in the height of summer, I’m painfully aware of the approaching winter. I dread it. How could I not, when it means the locking of my joints, increasing pain, and more unpleasant mornings? But then I flex my foot, feeling how easily it bends and twists. It reminds me I should be taking more walks, looking at more leaves, searching for more spiders. Because when winter comes, I will have to turn my attention elsewhere.
While we should appreciate the bounty of the warmer months, we should not view winter only as a time of deficit. It brings its own set of gifts and guidance, just as the warm months carry their own downsides. There is no cohesion without balance.
Respect your bodymind’s needs
No matter how much time I devote to PT exercises, how many walks I take, winter changes my body. The cold acts like glue to my fifth met, locking it in place and severely limiting my mobility. My knees creak and groan more whenever I stand or sit. The cane becomes a more regular part of my day.
I used to see this as a personal failure, a sign that I wasn’t exercising enough, wasn’t trying hard enough. I know now that’s wrong. The threshold for overdoing it in the winter is far lower than in summer.
Knowing this, I open myself to the signals of my bodymind. I pay closer attention to pain, stiffness, discomfort, mobility, etc. “No” is said more and more, and I turn my focus to virtual events and at-home gatherings (with those who have cars, at least). Transit takes longer with the snow, and I can account for at least double the walking time when my foot is locked up.
The snow reminds me that I have limits. It reminds me that it’s ok to have limits. Word by word, flakes whisper to me as they touch down on my coat: “Slowness brings revelation. Turning inwards makes you stronger. It’s ok to watch us from inside with a warm cup of tea. We know you’re still there, and touching us may hurt. We know you’re there.”
Especially your sensory needs
This one took me far more time to learn. A lot of neurodivergent people have heightened sensory receptors, and thus a lower tolerance for unpleasant sensory input. Locked joints and flared pain are unpleasant, but there’s so much more.
The tightness of your skin when the cold wind buffets it. The extra weight of all those layers. For me, the worst one is the transition from the frigid outside to the overly warm indoors. The internal temperature adjustment, not to mention excessive sweating, is deeply unpleasant, and I have to deal with it multiple times a day. And these are just a few examples!
When I’m not mindful of my sensory capacity, I regularly find myself in sensory overload, sometimes leading to shutdown, sometimes to panic attacks. Many of the icky sensory experiences that winter brings are unavoidable. So instead of trying to make myself not care about them (a futile endeavor), I must reduce other sensory triggers, as well as increasing soothing inputs.
For me, showers (warm or cold, depending on the mood) help me perform a sensory reset. Certain foods, drinks, and sounds calm and soothe my bodymind. As it gets colder, I more intentionally make these a part of my day.
Think of your sensory capacity as a tank: if winter is emptying your tank much faster, then you need ways to refill it. What are those for you?
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Summer you is not winter you
This is related to respecting bodymind needs, but I felt it deserved its own section, for it goes beyond pain and capacity. Many people experience other shifts during winter. Mood, personality, social battery, interests, and more can change as we have less sun and more layers.
Our world isn’t built for that, with most areas of life trying to continue on as normal—the work day, school loads, social clubs, etc. But our Northern ancestors understood the need to slow down and modify our activity during the colder months. Now is a time to conserve energy and approach hibernation, not run ourselves down to the bone.
Of course, in some areas of life, that isn’t possible. Chances are you can’t work fewer hours just because it’s winter. But take shortcuts where you can, and give yourself grace when you’re more tired, down, or disconnected than usual. Remember you’re just responding to the changes in your environment.
Energy distribution shifts
Energy changes in winter don’t always mean having less energy, even if that’s what we most often think of. But I like to think of energy in at least seven different categories:
- Physical
- Mental
- Intellectual
- Emotional
- Spiritual
- Creative
- Social
Perhaps one day, I’ll do a post explaining my categorization further. Until then, make your own meaning from this list.
In winter, my physical and social energy levels plummet. I typically find my mental energy lagging too. And while some of this energy seems to fully dissipate (likely going towards increased energy costs of basic survival and functioning), not all of it does.
Already, creative energy is flowing much more easily for me. I feel more spiritually grounded, and more drawn to complex intellectual questions.
Recently, I’ve been trying to embrace an interest-based workflow, one that also respects this shifting in energy channeling. So I have fewer social activities and go places less regularly, but spend more time at my desk and hunched over a notebook. So far, it’s working out quite nicely.
The snow has so much more it can tell us if we’re only willing to listen. It’s told me a lot more in my years of conversing, and playing, with it. So next time it snows and your first thought is about your terrible morning commute or how frustrated you are, acknowledge that, and then ask: “what changes does the world want me to be making right now?”
Are there other messages from snow you’d like to share? I’d love to hear them! You can leave a comment down below or cut a message into a paper snowflake. And if you liked this post, make sure to subscribe so you don’t miss the next one.
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Ashton Rose 