5 days Ago By Rochelle Squires
Winter has become a new verb. Similar to its sunnier, summer counterpart, ‘wintering’ is an activity mostly undertaken during the winter season but can happen any time of the year. Unlike the ways in which ‘summer’ is used as a verb by people who flock to beaches and homes by the water during warmer months, wintering also hints at a state of mind.
A time in which we have lost our foothold in everyday living. Read this article for free: Already have an account? To continue reading, please subscribe: * Winter has become a new verb. Similar to its sunnier, summer counterpart, ‘wintering’ is an activity mostly undertaken during the winter season but can happen any time of the year.
Unlike the ways in which ‘summer’ is used as a verb by people who flock to beaches and homes by the water during warmer months, wintering also hints at a state of mind. A time in which we have lost our foothold in everyday living. Read unlimited articles for free today: Already have an account? Opinion Winter has become a new verb.
Similar to its sunnier, summer counterpart, ‘wintering’ is an activity mostly undertaken during the winter season but can happen any time of the year. Unlike the ways in which ‘summer’ is used as a verb by people who flock to beaches and homes by the water during warmer months, wintering also hints at a state of mind. A time in which we have lost our foothold in everyday living.
In her exquisite memoir called , U.K. author Katherine May encourages reframing our relationship to winter by learning to embrace the metaphorical and literal winters of our lives rather than resisting them.
As I stare out my window at a sun dog on the horizon indicating a frigid temperature outside, and as we approach the winter solstice, embracing this season is aptly on my mind. Wintering is about retreating indoors, turning on the fireplace and hunkering down with comfort food and a good book. River trails and skating ovals and steaming cups of hot chocolate are also part of it.
Russell Wangersky/Free Press The solitude of wintering can be as important as any other of life’s seasons. But wintering is also acknowledging those times in our lives when we feel left out in the cold. It is that sad, lonely season most of us try to resist until it is thrust upon us in ways in which there is no escape.
For years I resisted ‘wintering.’ I would breeze through the solstice and hardly notice the length of night as my eyes remained fixed on schedules and commitments and events. Yet the loss of my job just over a year ago, even as expected and planned as it was, threw me into a season of winter that left no other choice but to get acquainted with solitude.
Going from being a busy politician, whose literal job it was to surround myself with people, to working alone as a writer from home, I had long stretches of time in which I felt as though I’d seemingly fallen through the cracks. With an identity once intertwined with the roles and responsibilities I held, I found myself grappling with a sense of loss during long walks through a lonely forest on the edge of night. Old friends, former colleagues, priorities and events all fell by the wayside.
I no longer recognized my previous way of life, yet hadn’t found a new way of being, either. Listening to the sound of snow crunching beneath my feet, I slipped into a time in between. And there I paused, believing that no season would last forever.
Career transition and job loss is one way people find themselves in a season of winter. Major life events like physical or mental illness, bereavement, or separation also have a way of forcing us into reckoning with our quietest selves. After my mother died six months ago, even though we were nearing the summer solstice and living in full sun, the season darkened.
I was overcome with grief and sadness and felt lonely for a place to call home even as I sat on my own front porch. Rest, reflection, and retreating were the only ways I could move through that season towards finding a new way of being. Even though I felt frozen in quiet solitude and sadness, I eventually found a new rhythm to my days.
Looking back now, I know with certainty that without having a long period of ‘wintering,’ my grief would’ve remained acute and even more prolonged. Winnipeg Jets Game Days On Winnipeg Jets game days, hockey writers Mike McIntyre and Ken Wiebe send news, notes and quotes from the morning skate, as well as injury updates and lineup decisions. Arrives a few hours prior to puck drop.
Periods of solitude, I have come to believe, are crucial to our well-being and humanity. My experience led me to finding a greater sense of what it means to be fully alive and awakened to new possibilities. Living in our northern part of the world allows us to experience the fullness of each season while also intrinsically attuning us to change.
We are reminded again and again that not even the brightest of days last forever, nor do those cold, dark nights. My pathway has curved once again toward a new season. As much as I’ve come to cherish the quietness of this new life I have discovered, I also feel ready to reengage with the community in ways that come from having a career outside of the home.
Soon I will share news of my new endeavour, but first, an update. Fourteen months ago, I introduced myself on these pages, with tongue in cheek, as a ‘recovering politician’. Today I can honestly declare that I am fully recovered.
Thank you for being a part of that journey. Rochelle Squires is a recovering politician after serving 71⁄2 years in the Manitoba legislature. She is a political and social commentator whose column appears Tuesdays.
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Thank you for your support. Rochelle Squires is a recovering politician after serving 71⁄2 years in the Manitoba legislature. She is a political and social commentator whose column appears Tuesdays.
Our newsroom depends on a growing audience of readers to power our journalism. If you are not a paid reader, please consider . Our newsroom depends on its audience of readers to power our journalism.
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