This past year I’ve felt called to explore what it means to connect with seasonal living and allow nature to influence my creative practices. This is the last post of the 4 season cycle.

Winter Season

Deep into the throes of winter comes a slowness, a hunkering, a hermitage. I'm reflecting on the lessons this season offers us. These lessons build naturally upon each other, showing how rest enables quiet, and quiet creates space for inner listening and anchoring.

 

1. Winter shows us the power of rest

🧐 The observation: REST—we're all talking about it, needing more of it. It's probably the hardest thing to prioritize in our fast-paced world. Winter exemplifies nature's need for dormancy. As everything in nature slows down, why can’t we too?

❄️ The practice:

• A big part of my winter practice is taking a two-week break with a studio closure. Unlike my summer sabbatical, where I focused on side projects and dreaming up ideas, this is purely rest. While I cherish family time during the holiday celebrations, I also make time for the solitude I crave. As January rolled in—undoubtedly my least favorite month—I realized I might need even more time off next year.
• This winter hasn't felt as restorative as needed amid the weight of world events, so I've focused on comfort, coziness, and activities that bring a sense of safety. Snuggling a puppy certainly helps.
• Though I repeatedly felt a strong urge to work on something I've long been excited about, I kept reminding myself to let go and prioritize my rest over making things. Without proper restoration, I won't have anything to give.
• Sometimes for me, rest looks like removing pressure I put on myself and being okay with not doing any of the “things’. On this topic, I really enjoyed Nikki D'Ambrosio’s perspective in her piece Falling Away From Your Practices

 

2. Winter shows us the beauty of quiet

🧐 The observation: Winter brings a beautiful quiet with its darkness, stillness, and cold. Neighborhoods feel subdued as we all retreat to our cozy homes and wildlife hibernates. My husband would repeatedly say, "The street feels eerily quiet, don't you think?" But I don't find it eerie at all—it's like a big exhale and release. In this quiet solitude, winter creates the perfect conditions for enjoying silence.

❄️ The practice:

• If you know me, yes, I do love talking, but I also find silence deeply restorative and living with migraine disorder I am very sound sensitive. Plus, being an introvert, I truly need quiet time to replenish my energy. I've been mindful of limiting my daily calls (whether for work, family, or life tasks) to create more silence, and lately I've been working without any music to enjoy the quiet space.
• I'm letting my creative ideas quietly incubate. For now, I'm simply allowing everything to be, quietly observing without taking action.
• And through the amazing Barb Groth, I discovered Quiet Parks and have been learning about the importance of quiet conservation (I was happy to included this non-profit in my 2024 year-end charitable giving).

 

3. Winter shows us the act of anchoring

🧐 The observation: The quiet and solitude of winter creates perfect conditions for turning inward and nurturing our creative roots. During dormancy, trees protect themselves and ensure survival by sending nutrients and energy down to their roots.

Like trees, we can connect to our roots, anchoring ourselves with our internal needs and intuition. Through grounding practices, we can support our energy reserves and practice what it feels like to deepen our inner connection during winter.

❄️ The practice:

• I'm using this time to journal a bit more, reflecting on my moods, feelings, and creative journey. BTW, don’t forget to check out Alison Zamora’s beautiful and generous free journaling sessions. Rather than rushing into planning and goals (though that will come soon), I'm waiting for things to thaw out naturally. This is my time for reconnecting with myself before turning my gaze outward.
• I’m practicing different grounding activities: making time for more reading, cooking and baking, staying in bed a bit longer, morning meditation.
• Most importantly, I'm anchoring myself in the present moment—focusing less on planning and doing and reaching (for now).

 

 

In the mood for winter…

Rituals

• Freelance for Life hosted an end-of-year retrospective workshop to intentionally close out 2024 and transition into rest mode. If you missed the free template and are interested in doing your own year-in-review, you can grab that here.
• Lighting candles in the dark mornings to bring a little light to the start of the day. My Bel ritual candle has been lovely for that. It looks like they closed down but my fellow resident in OOO’s Creative Residency, Clare, sells something similar in her beautiful shop.

 

Recipes

• Orange olive oil cake using cara cara oranges from the farmers market and Like Family’s Cara Cara Mia Olive Oil
• You may have heard of Charlie Bird’s Farro Salad, but my favorite is one I recreate at home that’s inspired by SF’s Gioia Pizzeria: farro, arugula, radish, almonds, avocado, golden raisins, with a shallot & sherry vinaigrette and shaved pecorino romano on top.
• My dad gifted me a bread machine for Christmas so I’ll be experimenting with bread making soon (let me know if you have any tips).

Listens

• Silence (remember!?) Plus these lovely podcast and musical selections:

Favorite winter finds

• A colorful and reusable wall calendar for the year
• So hard to choose from the amazing scented soaps from Heavenly Soap Company. When I met founder Asako at an SF holiday market I found out that she sells her products to Ten Thousand Waves, a favorite Japanese spa in Santa Fe.
• The beauty of these hand-crafted board games the Mother Nature Mahjong set, WOW 😍