Winter is coming. Not the "Game of Thrones" kind with ice dragons and impending doom, but the quiet, suffocating kind that happens inside your own head. Maybe you lost your job. Maybe a relationship crumbled. Or maybe you just woke up one Tuesday and realized you’ve been running on an empty tank for three years and your soul is essentially a dried-out sponge. This is what Katherine May talks about. It’s called wintering.
Honestly, we’re terrible at being sad. Our culture treats unhappiness like a technical glitch that needs a software patch. We’re told to "hustle harder" or "manifest positivity," which is basically the emotional equivalent of putting a Band-Aid on a broken femur. Wintering by Katherine May argues for the exact opposite. It suggests that these cold periods—the times when we are cut off from the world, feeling stagnant or frozen—aren't just inevitable. They’re necessary.
The Core Philosophy: You Are Not a Machine
We live in a world that demands eternal summer. We want constant growth, constant blooming, and constant productivity. But look at a tree. If a tree tried to grow leaves in January, it would die. The tree knows that it has to drop everything, pull its sap into its core, and wait.
May writes about this with a sort of weary authority. She isn’t some "guru" shouting from a mountaintop. She’s a woman who went through it. Her husband fell ill, her son couldn't cope with school, and she found herself facing a "winter" she didn't ask for. She realized that we've forgotten how to be dormant.
We treat these periods as failures. We think if we’re not "winning," we’re losing. But wintering isn't about failing. It’s a literal season of life. Sometimes you are the harvest, and sometimes you are the fallow field. If you don't let the field rest, nothing will ever grow there again. It’s that simple.
What Most People Get Wrong About This Book
People see the cover—which is beautiful and snowy—and think it’s a "cozy" book. They think it's about hygge, wool socks, and drinking overpriced lattes by a fire.
It isn't.
Well, it is, but only on the surface. Deep down, it’s a bit more brutal. May digs into the biology of cold and the mythology of the North. She talks about the literal physical pain of freezing. She visits the Blue Lagoon in Iceland and watches people plunge into ice-cold water. She explores how honeybees survive the winter by huddling together and vibrating their wing muscles to create heat.
The takeaway isn't "buy a blanket." It's "radical acceptance."
💡 You might also like: Cooper City FL Zip Codes: What Moving Here Is Actually Like
You have to acknowledge that you are in a winter. You can’t pretend it’s July when there’s a blizzard outside your window. If you try to run a marathon in a snowstorm wearing shorts, you’re going to get frostbite.
Practical Lessons from the Cold
How do you actually "winter"? May doesn't give you a 10-step checklist because she knows life is too messy for that. Instead, she looks at how nature and different cultures handle the dark.
Take the concept of "The Great Sleep." In many myths and biological cycles, there is a period of deep, restorative rest. In our modern life, we’ve pathologized sleep. We call it "laziness." May argues that when you are in a period of crisis, you need more sleep than you think. Your brain is literally re-wiring itself to handle a new reality.
Then there’s the food. Wintering is about nourishment, not dieting. It’s about the "stodgy" things—the soups, the breads, the things that keep you alive when the world feels thin.
Why Science Backs This Up
There is real biological truth to what May is saying. Consider the concept of SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). While May’s "wintering" is often metaphorical, the physical reality of light deprivation affects our circadian rhythms and serotonin levels. Research from the University of Copenhagen suggests that people with SAD have higher levels of a protein that carries serotonin away from the brain in winter.
Basically, your body is chemically signaling you to slow down.
When we fight this, we create a secondary layer of suffering. You’re not just sad; you’re mad at yourself for being sad. You’re not just tired; you’re guilty for being tired. Wintering by Katherine May is an invitation to drop the guilt.
The Social Aspect of Staying Cold
Society hates a winterer.
📖 Related: Why People That Died on Their Birthday Are More Common Than You Think
If you tell someone you’re struggling, they often try to "fix" you immediately.
"Have you tried yoga?"
"Maybe you should take Vitamin D?"
"You just need a night out!"
These are all well-intentioned ways of saying, "Your sadness makes me uncomfortable, please stop."
May notes that we need to learn how to be "unreliable" for a while. You might have to cancel plans. You might have to stop answering emails within five minutes. You might have to let the house get a little messy. This isn't being "bad" at life. It's survival.
One of the most moving parts of the book is when she discusses her son’s school refusal. Instead of forcing him back into a system that was breaking him, she "wintered" with him. They walked. They looked at the sea. They let the time pass. Eventually, the spring came. But it couldn't be rushed.
The Art of Doing Nothing
There’s a specific kind of "nothing" that happens in winter.
It’s not scrolling on TikTok.
It’s not "productive rest."
It’s staring out a window. It’s knitting. It’s watching the birds.
In a world that monetizes every second of our attention, doing something that has no "output" is a revolutionary act. May talks about the "rearing" of the soul. You are tending to something quiet and fragile.
Why the Book Hits Differently Now
We are living through a collective winter. Even if your personal life is "fine," the world feels heavy. The climate, the politics, the economy—it's a lot.
Katherine May wrote this before the 2020 lockdowns, but it became a bit of a Bible during that time. Why? Because it gave people permission to feel the weight of the moment. It told us that it’s okay to not be "thriving" during a global catastrophe.
👉 See also: Marie Kondo The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up: What Most People Get Wrong
But even as we move past those specific years, the concept remains vital. We are all going to face "winters" periodically. You might get a diagnosis. You might lose a parent. You might just hit a mid-life wall where nothing makes sense anymore.
When that happens, you have two choices:
- Fight it and burn out.
- Lean into it and transform.
Navigating Your Own Winter: Actionable Insights
If you feel the frost creeping in, don't panic. Here is how you actually apply the wisdom of Wintering by Katherine May to your life right now.
- Audit your energy, not your time. Stop looking at your calendar and start looking at your internal battery. If you’re at 10%, don't commit to a 50% task.
- Lower the bar. In winter, survival is the goal. If you fed yourself and took a shower, you won the day. Truly.
- Find your "Wintering" activity. This should be something tactile and slow. Baking bread, gardening (even if it's just tending to a dying pothos), or physical books. Stay off the screens.
- Change your lighting. This sounds small, but it's huge. Get rid of the overhead "big light." Use lamps, candles, and warm tones. Mimic the fireside.
- Identify your "crows." May talks about how some animals thrive in the cold. Who are the people in your life who can sit with you in the dark without trying to turn the lights on? Spend time with them.
- Acknowledge the transition. Don't just slide into a depression. Consciously decide: "I am wintering now." Mark the occasion. It gives you a sense of agency over the descent.
Wintering is an active state. It’s not a passive sinking. It’s a deliberate choice to withdraw, to repair, and to wait for the light to return. Because it always does. The earth has been doing this for billions of years. It hasn't failed yet.
You aren't broken. You're just out of season.
Stop fighting the cold and start learning what it has to teach you. Buy the heavy coat. Make the soup. Let yourself be quiet. The spring will be there when you're ready, but for now, the frost is where you belong.
Next Steps for Embracing the Season:
- Read the primary text: If you haven't read the full book, pick up a physical copy of Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times. The tactile experience of the pages is part of the process.
- Conduct a "Wintering Inventory": Write down three areas of your life where you are trying to force "summer" growth during a "winter" period.
- Schedule a "Do Nothing" block: Set aside four hours this weekend with zero obligations—no chores, no social media, no "self-improvement." Just exist.
- Connect with Nature's Cycle: Spend 15 minutes outside, regardless of the weather, and observe how the plants and animals in your local area are handling the current temperature.