When Winter Asks You to Rest
And Why That Invitation Matters More Than Ever for the Grieving Heart
There was a time — not so long ago — when winter meant slowing down.
When the days grew short and the cold crept in, people simply took to their beds. Not because they were sick. Not because something was wrong. But because the earth herself was resting, and they knew how to follow her lead.
Somewhere along the way, we forgot this.
Instead, December arrives with its full calendars and quiet pressures — gatherings to attend, gifts to buy, connections to maintain, energy to find when there is simply none left.
The world seems to speed up just as the light disappears.
And for those carrying grief?
This season can feel like trying to run through deep snow.
Maybe you're exhausted by the invitations — the expectation to be merry when your heart is still learning how to beat without someone.
Or maybe it’s the opposite: the silence is loud, the phone isn’t ringing, and the contrast brings back memories of winters when life looked different.
Both experiences are real.
Both are hard on a nervous system already stretched thin.
Another year is closing, and your life looks different than you ever imagined it would.
That isn’t a failure. That’s grief doing what grief does — reshaping how you move through seasons you’ve navigated a hundred times before.
Slow Down to the Pace of the Earth
I come back to this phrase often, and maybe it’s even become a sort of mantra for me when I’m feeling Earth’s pull to rest, relax and listen inward:
” Slow down to the pace of the earth.”
Not the pace of your inbox.
Not the pace of expectation.
The actual pace of this northern-hemisphere winter — the one tilting away from the sun, inviting rest, conservation, and quiet.
I know Earth is hurtling through space at unimaginable speed.
And yet here, on the ground where we live and breathe and grieve, everything softens. The days shorten. The nights lengthen.
The seasons turn without anyone fighting against them.
Why do we fight against ourselves?
Calling In the Elements
Here’s something I’ve witnessed again and again in grief work:
When the heart is heavy, we instinctively turn to the elements.
We don’t think about it. We just know.
Water soothes.
The shower where tears mingle with steam.
The bath that holds what your body is too tired to name.
The ocean, the rain, the warm cup between your hands.
Earth grounds.
The walk you take when the walls feel small.
A moment outside, even in the cold, reminding you that you belong to something ancient and steady.
Air lifts.
The deep breath after crying.
The sigh you didn’t know you were holding.
A window cracked open just enough for the world to move around you again.
Fire warms.
The candle lit in their memory.
A blanket wrapped around your shoulders.
The quiet glow that reminds you light still exists, even here.
This is the heart of Grief Alchemy — remembering that your body and the elements collaborate in your healing.
This isn’t mystical thinking. It’s instinct.
It’s the capital-E Earth reminding you that you are not meant to carry everything alone.
Permission to Winter
So here’s my gentle offering as this year draws to a close:
You don’t have to push through.
You don’t have to rise to the occasion.
You don’t have to match anyone’s pace or pretend this season feels the way it once did.
You are allowed to “winter” (Yes, it can also be a verb).
To rest.
To retreat.
To slip into softness.
To go to bed early.
Because the earth is doing the same.
Grief in winter doesn’t need to be fixed or hurried.
It needs to be held — by the elements, by the season, and by your own soft permission to be exactly where you are.
The light will return.
And you will still be here — changed, yes, but here.
Until then, let winter be what winter has always been:
a quiet turning inward.
a pause.
a place to find forward by listening inward.
Until our paths cross,
Debra
P.S. If this season has you listening inward and wanting support, Grief Alchemy may feel like a companion.
It’s a gentle, element-based journey through grief — rooted in Earth, Water, Air, and Fire — created to help you move through this winter at a pace that honours your heart.
