Last year, I think it was, I made a playlist called ‘this winter will be different’ full of atmospheric and cosy music – medieval choral, contemporary folk, female singer-songwriters, even a nice bit of Eddie Vedder – and then completely forgot about it. Was last winter different? You ask. Well, no, not really. And it probably wasn’t because I hadn’t listened to the playlist, but also it kind of was.
What I have come to understand about winter, how the season seeps into me and alters my composition, is that it doesn’t happen like a light switch turning on and off. I don’t suddenly feel worse after the autumnal equinox, or the clocks going back; it is a slow process that invades from the edges, the mornings and the evenings. I find it hard to wake up, I feel sleepy earlier. My first impulse on waking is to sigh, and feel anxious about the day ahead. By afternoon my body aches and the symptoms the daylight keeps at bay creep back in.
But this dissolving at the edges isn’t the defining feature of my difficult relationship with the darkness; it’s just what happens. The thing that characterises the winter, and makes it so hard to explain, is the loss of connection I begin to feel to myself. I liken it to being in fog: when you are standing there, unable to see much beyond the white haze, but you can sense there are things out in the mist, just out of reach. If you could extend your hand through the veil, if you could walk just a step, you might catch hold of something firm. But the fog is so dense there is no reaching or walking, the path is hidden.
For much of winter this is how I feel. I lose myself to the fog. I forget the parts of me that feel most like me. I am a reduced misty wraith, desperately searching for her solid self. And, for many winters, I have not known how to live with this. I have found myself diminishing and have struggled, eventually abandoning all hope of ever reclaiming my true self until, one day in early Spring, I notice a shift and there is the path, again. The fog starts to clear. It’s always such a relief.
The thing about using metaphors to describe how we’re feeling, of building a vivid picture of the thing, is that somehow it feels easier to play with that or to explore it. Once I’d told the story of being lost in the fog, I noticed that I no longer felt stuck in one place in the gloom. The path ahead might be invisible, but the ground right under my feet wasn’t. There was room to shuffle around, even if it was slow going. And things aren’t completely gone in that landscape. Echoes of things exist out there, if I listen carefully, if I quieten myself to feel their energy. Clues of the things, even if the things themselves are hiding.
I think that’s where the impulse to make the playlist came from. I knew that a touchstone for me, a thing that keeps me connected to my true self, is music. And that creating a new soundscape of music to calm, to inspire, to soothe, might create a link in the fog, a ribbon to follow home.
For the past couple of months it’s been unseasonably warm here in London and autumn has stretched itself out so long you’d be forgiven for wondering, as I have done, whether winter will even come at all this year. But it’s on its way. My body knows this, even if my eyes don’t quite believe it. And I know it’s time to prepare. I’d like to learn from years gone by and remember to leave myself ribbons in the fog, breadcrumbs on the path. Gathering things together, within reach, that bring joy and connection, ready for when I am getting lost. Simple things on the face of it, that might just make the difference this winter.
Whether you notice a change in yourself during the darker months, it’s always lovely to reconnect to those things that make us feel most ourselves.
What are the things that make you feel most at home in your body?
What are the things that give you a sense of self?
What things, when you don’t do them for a while, do you miss the most?
What things would you like to keep close?
How can you maintain a connection with these things in the months ahead?
What are easy ways to build these things into the rhythm of your days?
I hope this winter season ahead treats you well. If you find yourself in need of some extra kindness and compassion during the dark, why not take a look at this blog playlist I’ve created.