Holding Space for the Darkness
Embracing all facets of this human experience
A Newsletter I Loved
In a season of ever-growing darkness, there’s a part of our humanity that gets shoved aside in the forced monoculture of joy and gratitude and lightness. This newsletter beautifully goes down the winding path of bravely deciding to let the darkness wash over.
As a child, I don’t remember dreading winter. I don’t remember worrying about -40 temperatures and wet socks and getting sick. I was simply present with the world as it was on any given day, whether there was a blizzard or hail storm or fog or sun. It wasn’t until I reached early adulthood that I started to absorb the complaints of those around me when the air turned crispy and the sky held the promise of frozen flakes at any moment.
In more recent years, I’ve been wanting to take back my perception of winter. I’m learning that getting cold isn’t so bad because coming home to our fire and a hot cup of tea feels cozy afterward. I’m learning to listen to the lethargy I’m feeling as a sign not to push myself so hard and rest into more reading, more writing, more cuddling up with a movie. I’m learning that some days, it’s okay to stay inside and other days we might be more inclined to go outdoors—I can forego the 1000 hours outside challenge if I want to (and I say that as someone who is passionate about nature preschool, forest schooling, etc).
There’s always going to be something not to like about any season, but goodness me, there’s also so much good to be found as well. I’m not advocating for toxic positivity, which seems to dismiss that uncomfortable feelings have a place in our lives, but rather something that’s more seasoned and mature, something that acknowledges and validates all facets of our experiences as being valuable and wonderfully human.
Initially, I called this substack Life in Cycles because I want to embrace the fact that life isn’t just a straight shoot up—my life is full of darkness, moments when I’m not sure about anything, as well as the steadiness and warmth of the light. The more I let my body rest in these cycles, the more I experience the full spectrum of my humanity. As I hold space for uncomfortable feelings, my capacity for enjoyable ones increases; as I allow myself to rest in the darkness, I find my boundaries have stretched beyond what I knew when the light returns; as I trust myself to handle each cycle, my fear of the unknown diminishes.
I’m always inspired by the children I love as I watch them live fully present in their light, as well as their dark. It reminds me of what I lost somewhere along the way, as I started feeling the need to force myself in an ever-upward direction—no room for the seasons of unknowing, only improvement. As I follow in their wisdom, I am quite enjoying the cyclical spiral my life naturally meanders along—there’s so much more room for curiousity and wonder, for rupture and repair, for presence and enoughness.
What lesson does each season have to teach me, including winter?
I feel like I am enough when…
When I think about fully embracing the unknown of the dark alongside the steadiness of the light, I feel…
I have really learned to lean into these darker months... historically I always have loved the start of winter and that shift into it but I have to admit that as it goes on, towards February time I am always feeling the wish for warmth and more light. But I love the lessons that winter brings and the call for cosy time at home. I don’t love the cold... well my body doesn’t love it... but with cosy layers and hot water bottles I can tolerate it better. I love what you said about the presence of it as children... I watch my eldest daughter fully embrace all the elements without any negative narratives about it and love seeing her curiosity about the seasons. Xx
I'm not sure if it's because I'm a summer baby, or if it's more from my sensory processing, but I haven't really liked the cold since I was a kid, so winter has always been a bit hard on me. I think in many ways, I appreciate it much more now than I used to, but the dark is still hard for me to grapple with sometimes. As with everything, I'm trying to be gentle with myself through it this year.