It happened on an ordinary Tuesday morning. I pulled back the curtains and noticed how the light had changed—softer, slanted, arriving later than it did just weeks ago. The air was just a little crisp—enough to make me want to wrap my hands around a warm mug and stay close to home. My body knew before my mind did. Winter was here, inviting me to slow down.
Winter can feel complicated. Whether you’re navigating medical treatment, caring for a loved one, experiencing grief, or in a busy season of life, you may not welcome the cultural messages to speed up at this time of year. More gatherings, more occasions, more cheer can be right sometimes but not all the time. If your body, mind, and spirit are whispering “I’d rather not,” why not allow yourself to learn from the season of winter?
What winter can show us
Long before modern medicine, Indigenous peoples across North America understood something profound about winter. It could be a season to endure, but it was also a sacred time. Verlinda Montoya, of the Picuris tribes, explains that the Picuris would gather indoors during winter months, sitting fireside and sharing stories that had been passed down for thousands of years. “Winter becomes a time of reflecting on the past that allows for fresh insight,” she says.1
Winter is associated with the cardinal direction north in many Native American traditions—a direction that symbolizes purity, renewal, and our ancestors.1 It is a time when animals hibernate and the land itself seems to dream beneath the snow.
There’s remarkable wisdom here for those of us on a healing journey. Just as the earth needs its dormant season to restore nutrients and prepare for spring’s abundance, our bodies, minds, and spirits need times of rest.
The turning point
The winter solstice—which fell on December 21 this year—marked the longest night and shortest day of the year. It’s the darkest moment. And yet it’s also the turning point. From the solstice, even though winter’s cold continues, the light begins its slow return. Each day is a few minutes longer. Just as it gets darkest, the Earth begins turning back toward the sun.
It’s no coincidence that some of the world’s most beautiful and elaborate winter celebrations come from Northern Europe, where winter darkness is profound. In Scandinavia, where December days bring just a few hours of daylight, people don’t hide from the darkness. Instead, they’ve created traditions that transform it into something magical: the glowing candles of Swedish Lucia celebrations, the cozy warmth of Danish hygge, and the burning of Yule logs that once kept light alive through the longest nights.
Notice that these traditions don’t deny the darkness. Instead, they acknowledge it and celebrate the light that always returns. The Norwegian word koselig captures the art of making darkness bearable—creating warmth, light, and coziness in the midst of winter. When you’re in the darkest season, you light candles. You gather close. You create beauty and warmth and trust that spring will come.
Making space for self-care
I know what you might be thinking: Who has time to rest? When things like fighting with the insurance company over car repairs, getting a scan health issue, or working a stressful job in a bleak employment market are all priorities, just trying to stay afloat may seem more important than self-care.
If you’re a caregiver, you may wonder, “If I slow down, who will take care of things?” You may be in school, busy with parenting duties, or about to be deployed. There are a million legitimate-sounding reasons why you can’t take time for yourself.
But here’s what research tells us: self-care isn’t optional. For chronic illness, only about 20% of healing comes from medical treatment itself. The other 80% comes from lifestyle, behavior, and how we care for ourselves outside the doctor’s office.2 When we’re depleted, our bodies can’t heal effectively. When we’re rushing all the time, workouts fall by the wayside, we stop stretching, and start eating everything in sight instead of making a healthful meal … and we get more and more stressed. We get sick, which ironically may force us to rest at last.
You can skip all this if you consider that winter shows us how to rest. Here are some ways to honor that wisdom.
Rest without guilt
This might be the hardest practice of all. Give yourself permission to slow down, even if it means saying no to holiday gatherings or traditions that drain you. It might mean leaving the office on time or scrolling on your phone less so you can get out for a walk.
Rest is not laziness; it’s how your body repairs itself at the cellular level. When you rest, you’re actively participating in your own healing.
After traveling every week this October, my patient Gwen and her husband decided to bow out of attending a Thanksgiving gathering. They spent the holiday at home with their pets—eating pie and turkey, napping, watching movies, and just letting the day play out. Was it weird to be so relaxed? “A little,” Gwen admitted. “But I was rested instead of exhausted the next day, and it felt good to do just what we wanted for once.”
Try this: Instead of pushing through fatigue, meet it with curiosity. What is your body asking for? An afternoon nap? An evening without obligations? Going to bed an hour earlier? Listen, and then honor what you hear.
Create time for reflection
Winter invites us to look inward. You might set aside time each week to journal—not about your to-do list but about your inner landscape. What have you learned about yourself this year? What strengths have you discovered? What do you want to release as the year ends? You can also write a list of things you’d like to do, people you’d like to connect with, or goals you’d like to accomplish in the new year.
Share stories and connection
There’s a reason why winter is the season of stories. Think about the explosion of Christmas movies on Hallmark and other streaming services. Why do millions of people watch the same sentimental narratives year after year? Why do we read “A Christmas Carol” again, or watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” for the twentieth time?
Stories help us make sense of darkness. They remind us that struggles can lead to transformation, help often shows up when we need it most, and difficult chapters aren’t necessarily the end of the story. Winter storytelling isn’t just entertainment. It’s a way of gathering around the metaphorical fire to remind each other that we’re not alone.
You can create your own version of this ancient practice. Invite a friend over or find a support group where you can share your journey with others. Tell your story—the struggles, the victories, and the wisdom you’ve gained.
If you’re a caregiver this is especially important because caregiving can be isolating. Finding even one person who will listen to your story can be profoundly restorative.
Nourish yourself
Winter calls for warming foods: soups, stews, herbal teas. These aren’t just comfort—they’re medicine. Taking time to prepare nourishing food or to sit down and actually taste what you’re eating is a form of self-care.
So is gentle movement that honors where your body is right now—a short walk if you’re able, gentle stretching, or simply standing by a window and feeling the winter sun on your face.
Take winter’s perspective
Here’s something else winter teaches: impermanence. The cold won’t last forever. Spring will come.
When we’re in the thick of a crisis, it’s easy to lose perspective. The current challenge feels permanent, overwhelming, all-consuming. We get spun up in worry, in worst-case scenarios.
But winter reminds us: this too shall pass. Seasons change.
This doesn’t mean dismissing real concerns. It means learning to distinguish between what deserves our deep attention and what is temporary turbulence. It means asking: Will this matter in a year? In five years?
A caregiver I spoke with keeps a small branch on her desk—something she found on a winter walk. When anxiety threatens to overwhelm her, she holds it and remembers: “This tree went dormant in winter. It looked dead. But it was just resting. And in spring, it bloomed again.”
Honor the season you’re in
One of the most countercultural things you can do for whole person health is to stop fighting against where you are and honor it. This doesn’t mean stopping treatment if you’re receiving it or going without help if you’re grieving or overwhelmed. It simply means that you can stop asking yourself to act in a way that you don’t feel. Consider giving yourself permission to rest deeply and to do the quiet underground work of healing.
The Earth doesn’t apologize for winter. Trees don’t feel guilty for dropping their leaves. They trust the cycle. Trust that your body, given rest and nourishment and kindness, knows how to heal.
An invitation
As we move through the winter months, I invite you to try a winter wisdom practice: Choose one way to honor a need each month.
Maybe it’s going to bed earlier. Maybe it’s saying no to one draining obligation. Maybe it’s sitting quietly for 10 minutes each morning with a warm drink. Maybe it’s asking for the help you need.
Winter is here. The earth is resting. The light is returning. What if you allowed yourself to do the same?
Reflection Question: What is one belief about rest or self-care that you need to let go of this winter? What might be possible if you honored your body’s need for restoration?
Helpful resources
Feeling SAD? Supporting Your Mind, Body, and Spirit through the Season
When Self-Care Feels Radical: Putting Yourself First Might Just Save Your Life
References:
- Astar S. 6 Native American And Indigenous Winter Traditions. Farmers’ Almanac. Updated May 15, 2025. https://www.farmersalmanac.com/6-native-american-winter-traditions
- Jonas WB, How Healing Works: Get Well and Stay Well Using Your Hidden Power to Heal. Lorena Jones Books; 2018.