Newsletter February 2026 Volume 189
Hi there,
hope you’re hanging in there.
We can all feel the spring is on its way, but before we really lean into that, let’s make sure that we get that last bit of the deep nourishment that comes from resting in the dark of winter.
It is so challenging because in our culture as things get colder and darker turning towards winter, we jump toward the very social and public holiday season, which is lovely.
It give us a lot of momentum and energy as we through the beginning of winter, but then the holidays peter out and there is a time of cold and dark without the promise of jovial community celebrations
A time in which seeds are still quiet in the dark
below ground
waiting.
This time of year the earth is encouraging us to go quiet and to take some time before we begin again. To take some time to honor the beautiful dark.
I know for some people this time of year is really emotionally and physically challenging. The lack of light can feel excruciating and I’m sure they are more than ready for spring and the light to return!
But I don’t really mind winter. I really lean into the cozy wood stove and reading with tea, but I also really love the spring.
I get a thrill when the birds return and the early wildflowers start pushing up from the damp ground blooming as the days get longer and we move out into the garden,
But this year I realized I felt some concern.
A jolt of worry and misalignment when I heard the birds really going for it yesterday.
They were singing so beautifully.
The sun was shining into the windows and I thought,
Not yet.
Not yet.
I need some more time.
I was imagining processing my deep sadness, despair and disillusionment as the alchemy of composting. You put something in the compost bin and over time the organisms, the heat, the damp, the dark dirt turn it into something else.
Something nourishing.
I feel like I am pretty good at letting grief run through me. Working as a nurse, being a parent and human has taught me that and I have some ways to make that process less cumbersome.
But usually I can be patient and move through it, but what we are dealing with now?
The cruelty, the abuse, the deep malevolence of so many in power is so staggering and painful. I feel like my inner compost pile is trying to process a large tin can,
a brick,
or a car.
It’s too much.
So, I’m going to take some extra time to be quiet.
Not to fix or improve or flee my body and my soul, but just to be and allow while I sit in front of the fire with the cat hopefully in my lap.
I want to ask myself what else do I need to do now to appreciate the darkness?
How can the darkness and quiet help me pace myself in these ongoing challenging times?
And if there is rage underneath the grief. SO much rage. How do I work with that in away that is productive and tears down that needs to be torn down? In the world and in me?
What can I do in the coming weeks to make sure I get my fill and allow myself to rest and be before I have to start responding to the exuberance of spring?
Maybe it’s making soup? Journaling? Lighting candles? Dancing to 90’s hits? Maybe it’s finally learning backgammon?
What do I want to experience during this time of hibernation forced by the weather and the wind chill factor so that I feel nourished and like there is enough soil for my roots when the ice finally melts?
What sweetness can I find in this dark season that can help me rejuvenate when spring comes?
What can I do to feel and move this deep grief?
And how can I hold myself gently as I do?
And how do I want to be changed and how do I want to change and engage with the world around me?
How do I want to help?
I think it is different for each of us, but as the light slowly starts to return these are questions to spend some time pondering.
I’ll be sitting with the questions and the gentle darkness this week, leaning into the season while the rivers are still frozen and the bear is still hibernating deep in her cave.
