Hibernation (two)

There is a time for everything to sleep. The trees will shed their leaves, and the sap, which runs through the branches, will be still. The bears will fill their bellies, and then find burrows to sleep the winter through. The ground will freeze, the insects will hide, and the sun will cast long, dreary shadows across snow covered parks. We live in a country with four specific seasons, and the season of sleeping is on its way.

Yet how many of us actually take the winter to hibernate? Are the days of reaping the harvest, and then sitting back for a winter of reading, wood whittling, and knitting all but through? Is it even realistic to think that winters are for resting anymore? Sadly, I think we are losing our slumber season.

What has replaced the once unifying Canadian winter-imposed pause is a year that has less notable differentiation. These days, our Canadian identity is less weather based; perhaps we relate more to each other through our deadlines and commitments. We have got jobs to go to, books to study, children to raise, holiday presents to find, and bodies to keep fit. For many of us, slowing down in the winter is as likely as finding wildflowers in February.


Our increasing culture of “doing” instead of “being” leaves me slightly concerned about the lack of time for resting, reflection, and rejuvenation. Without long periods of quietude or isolation imposed upon us, how many of us will actually go out of our way to create this space? And what is the value of having it? The time to be still, ideally, leads to the opportunity for introspection, and the value of introspection should not be overlooked.

Introspection is a commodity that seems to be in scarce supply these days. If, as a species, we valued the process of contemplation (examining one’s own thoughts, emotions, and actions), I wonder how our current state would be different? Would we be healthier? Would we approach conflict differently? How would we treat our natural surroundings? I hypothesize that a global increase in individual introspection would lead to a decrease in public health pandemics, international conflicts, and earth-threatening environmental issues.

Indeed, it is a big leap from hibernation to world peace. I do realize this. Yet when I take it down a notch, the essence of the logic rings an opus of truth: introspection inevitably leads to improvement. It is incredibly intrinsic. It is incredibly simple.

And even if a period of rest does not lead to existential examination, there are the benefits of recharging energy levels, of having quiet time with loved ones, and of watching snowflakes fall on windowsills. A wise society values introspection and stillness.

So as winter approaches, we will wrap ourselves in thick layers of scarves, toques, and mittens to fight the cold. Jack Frost will tell us to stay inside to rest, and chances are we probably will not listen. But before we battle the blizzards and penetrating cold, perhaps you could take a minute to ask yourself, “How will I create stillness for myself this winter?”

…And alas, you will have already become more introspective.