I started writing a newsletter about the weather too - but from the opposite vantage point of wanting more sunny days. It was good to read about the darkness and your appreciation for it. I smiled at the part about being wrapped in a blanket on the couch. That is how I spend most of winter too :)
I'd love to hear the opposite perspective! As soon as I finished this post it felt more like a eulogy than anything else. At the end of the day I am also excited for more light
Fear and excitement produce the same response in our body. And that sounds like what you’re describing. Very interesting memory from walking around in Brooklyn when you were younger. Living in Alaska may feel like home in part because of the Brooklyn experience of being on guard - and this is imprinted in you and, yes, feels comfortable.
I have winter anxiety and summer anxiety…so maybe just anxiety? Lol. During early winter, like you, I am girding myself against the cold and dark, only to conclude on those quiet nights alone on the ski trail that life just doesn’t get any better. My summer anxiety is FOMO—not squeezing in enough activities (squirrels must feel this, right?) to feel like I wrung the life out of the hours of daylight. But if I can just stop and sit on my deck in the sun, that’s actually enough. Trying to be a human being, not a human doing…
Oh man, I love everything about this. But these two quotes in particular. For as long as I can remember, I've felt guilty about cocooning like this when the weather is warmer and brighter and I can tell I'm "supposed to" be outside.
"Let me stay in bed, let me drink tea and sit in a bath. Let me write and dream and read and play mindless card games while I listen to a podcast. Let my energy be low, and let my surroundings mirror me in their own hibernation. Let me not move too quickly into this next phase."
"It turns out I might need the dark days just as much as I need the light. The darkness shapes this world and is part of it, just as much as me, or you, or any old aggressive moose."
I started writing a newsletter about the weather too - but from the opposite vantage point of wanting more sunny days. It was good to read about the darkness and your appreciation for it. I smiled at the part about being wrapped in a blanket on the couch. That is how I spend most of winter too :)
I'd love to hear the opposite perspective! As soon as I finished this post it felt more like a eulogy than anything else. At the end of the day I am also excited for more light
Thanks Julia. Ditto? haha.
From my dark-loving heart to yours <3 <3
Fear and excitement produce the same response in our body. And that sounds like what you’re describing. Very interesting memory from walking around in Brooklyn when you were younger. Living in Alaska may feel like home in part because of the Brooklyn experience of being on guard - and this is imprinted in you and, yes, feels comfortable.
I have winter anxiety and summer anxiety…so maybe just anxiety? Lol. During early winter, like you, I am girding myself against the cold and dark, only to conclude on those quiet nights alone on the ski trail that life just doesn’t get any better. My summer anxiety is FOMO—not squeezing in enough activities (squirrels must feel this, right?) to feel like I wrung the life out of the hours of daylight. But if I can just stop and sit on my deck in the sun, that’s actually enough. Trying to be a human being, not a human doing…
Oh man, I love everything about this. But these two quotes in particular. For as long as I can remember, I've felt guilty about cocooning like this when the weather is warmer and brighter and I can tell I'm "supposed to" be outside.
"Let me stay in bed, let me drink tea and sit in a bath. Let me write and dream and read and play mindless card games while I listen to a podcast. Let my energy be low, and let my surroundings mirror me in their own hibernation. Let me not move too quickly into this next phase."
"It turns out I might need the dark days just as much as I need the light. The darkness shapes this world and is part of it, just as much as me, or you, or any old aggressive moose."