Wintering: Recognizing The Season You’re In
“Nothing in nature blooms all year.”
–Unknown
Even in places where snow never falls, December has a way of asking us to slow down. The days feel a little shorter, the air a little quieter, and—whether we like it or not—life insists on pausing (take it from me as I am forced to be home nursing the flu). And when you’re raising or teaching children, that pause can feel both comforting and overwhelming. Kids still buzz with energy, schedules still tug at you from every direction, and the world still expects you to sparkle because, well… it’s the season.
We don’t talk about this enough.
How life has its own rhythm—even when the calendar is full, the group chats are buzzing, and the world is insisting that this is the season to “do more,” “show up more,” “be more.”
Wintering is what happens when life asks us to slow down before we’re ready.
For some, it shows up as fatigue that doesn’t quite match the day you had. For others, it’s the pull to unplug, to retreat from the constant activity, or to protect the small pockets of peace that still exist in the middle of it all.
Sometimes it’s emotional—feeling reflective, nostalgic, or unexpectedly tender.
Sometimes it’s practical—your bandwidth is simply smaller, and your capacity shrinks without warning.
No matter how it looks, wintering doesn’t mean you’re failing.
It means you’re human.
The challenge is that we often resist the slow season. We try to power through, keep the same pace, maintain the same expectations, and keep ourselves “productive” because the world doesn’t exactly hand out medals for rest. And yet, the more we push against our natural ebb, the more the stress builds beneath the surface.
But wintering isn’t about withdrawing from life.
It’s about acknowledging that this season has different needs than the last one.
Sometimes that means saying no to things you normally say yes to.
Sometimes it means creating more margin instead of more plans.
Sometimes it means noticing the small cues—irritation, exhaustion, overstimulation—that signal your body and mind are asking for a gentler pace.
What makes wintering powerful is not the slowing down itself, but the clarity it gives us:
Where am I right now?
What do I need?
What can I release?
What deserves my energy in this season—and what doesn’t?
Recognizing the season you’re in helps you move through it with more intention and less guilt. Wintering teaches us to respond to life instead of reacting to it. To adjust instead of endure. To allow instead of resist.
And this matters deeply—not just for ourselves, but for the people we care for, teach, and live alongside. When we understand our own season, we show up with more steadiness. We communicate more clearly. We make decisions with a grounded mind instead of a hurried one.
As we begin this month-long exploration, consider this your starting point: Pause long enough to notice where you are.
Not where you “should” be. Not where others expect you to be. Just… where you truly are, in this moment, in this season.
Wintering begins with recognition.
Next week, we’ll look at what wintering means specifically for children—because they experience it too, often in ways adults overlook. But for now, stay here. Notice your pace. Notice your needs.
Let this season soften you—not into stillness, but into awareness.
Do you want us to bring us directly to your school or organization ?
From leadership teams to full faculty, we offer customized workshops that equip educators to integrate SEL and Educational Neuroscience seamlessly into everyday teaching.
💡 Let’s partner to build stronger, more connected school communities—together.
👉 Contact us to host a workshop
UPCOMING WORKSHOPS
