I’ve been thinking a lot about winter lately, not just the weather, but the structure of it. How it asks us to live.

We act like winter is just an inconvenient tunnel we have to push through until spring. But nature doesn’t treat it that way at all. Trees don’t apologize for going bare. Plants don’t feel guilty for going dormant. Animals aren’t mad at themselves for needing more rest. Humans are the only ones trying to live December like it’s June. And maybe that’s why this time of year feels so off sometimes. We’re fighting a season that is very clearly telling us: slow down, soften, pull in a little closer.

So I’ve been asking myself:

• How are we actually meant to live during this time?
• What if winter isn’t a mistake or a pause in “real life,” but a part of the cycle that’s just as important as growth and harvest?
• What if this season is supposed to feel different on purpose?

Winter as a Quiet Kind of Work

Rest is still a form of work. It’s just the behind-the-scenes kind. Roots keep growing in winter. You can’t see them, but they’re busy getting stronger, deeper, quieter. I think we’re meant to do a version of that too.

On the outside, it might look like:

• Cooking simple food
• Going to bed earlier
• Saying no a little more often
• Staying home because you genuinely want to

On the inside, though, winter is where a lot of important things happen:

• You process what the year has been
• You notice what’s not working
• You feel the tiredness you’ve been ignoring
• You realize what you actually want going forward

It’s not “new year, new you.” It’s more like: this is the part where I get honest with myself, while the world is quiet enough for me to hear my own thoughts.

How We Might Be Meant to Live Right Now

If we stopped for a second and actually designed life to match this season, I think it might look like:

• Shorter days in every sense – not just the sun, but the expectations. Fewer tasks. Slower mornings. Earlier nights.
• Heavier food on purpose – soups, stews, bread from the oven. Not something to feel guilty about, but part of how humans have always handled cold, lean months.
• More home time – not because we’re antisocial, but because winter is naturally a “gather close” season. More time in the kitchen, on the couch, at the table.
• Less background noise – less constant stimulation, fewer decisions, fewer tabs open in our brain.
• More repeating the same small routines – lighting candles, making tea, putting on the same sweater. There’s comfort in repetition when the world outside feels harsh.

None of this is exciting. And that might be exactly the point.

Letting the Darkness Be What It Is

The darkness gets to people. It sneaks in around 4:30 p.m. and suddenly it feels like the whole day disappeared. It’s easy to treat that feeling like something to fix:
more coffee, more screens, more distraction. But what if part of living with winter instead of against it is letting the darkness be what it is?

It’s dark. I’m more tired. I don’t have the same energy I did in July. That doesn’t mean something is wrong with me, it means the world changed, and my body noticed. We weren’t meant to be the same person in every season. That includes how much we do, how social we feel, how much we create, even how we think. Winter might be the season where the goal isn’t to shine, but to settle. What if winter isn’t the problem. Our refusal to live like it’s winter is?

Maybe we’re meant to:

• sleep a little more
• talk a little less
• stay home a little often
• plan slowly instead of rushing into big changes

Maybe this whole season is an invitation to be a little more human and a little less machine. If you’re tired right now, or you feel like you’re not “doing enough,” you’re not broken. You’re just in a season that was never designed for endless output. You’re allowed to match the pace of the month you’re in.

With warmth,

Autumn