Embracing winter is about embracing our life; all of it, the dark parts and the light.
A self-confessed former winter hater, Leibowitz enjoyed an outdoorsy childhood in Lake Shore, New York. After graduating in psychology, she won a Fulbright fellowship at The Arctic University of Tromsø studying under Joar Vittersø, a leading authority on the research of human happiness by the end of which, she’d become a winter convert. Her subsequent research takes her from the saunas of Finland and the onsens of Japan to crossing the Gulf of Bothnia on foot and Burns Night on the Island of Lewis. Much of it is done in Scandinavia whose inhabitants, as we learn every year, tend to be happier than the rest of us despite the long dark months of winter although, I’m sure, a good dose of socially responsible governance helps. The success of her Atlantic piece led to a string of newspaper and magazine commissions and, eventually this book.
Often, our attempts at self-improvement feel punitive; we try to berate ourselves into healthful habits. Instead, we can make things we know we should do into things we want to do.
Despite its academic roots, Leibowitz’s book is written in a chatty, accessible style which avoids preachy self-help, while offering sound advice to those of us for whom winter looms large. She divides it into three sections – Appreciate Winter, Make it Special and Get Outside – followed by practical exercises. Cosiness, slowing down if you can, enjoying the season’s rituals and festivals, getting outside, noticing and enjoying nature form the basis of her ideas, some of which I’d already learned the hard way. It took me a long time to accept that if I was feeling cold inside, a well-wrapped up brisk walk would warm me up for several hours. Those Nubuck suede boots that I liked so much have rarely been worn, but my grippy ones get a daily outing in the season. For me, the best bit of advice was to stop complaining about winter to everyone; try mentioning what you enjoy about it. It’s about skewing your mindset towards the positive while still acknowledging that not all of winter is pleasant: pragmatic acceptance not Pollyanna. There’s a bit too much padding and repetition, but the acid test is do I feel better about the prospect of winter after reading Leibowitz’s book? I do, although, ask me again in January.
Bluebird: London 9781035006977 304 pages Paperback (Read via NetGalley)
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This sounds just what I need. I always hate the signs of winter coming.
I did find it helpful although I’d already adopted some of the strategies she suggests
I don’t really have a problem any more with Real Winter. What gets me down is the endless run of damp and cold-but-not-in-a-good-way days that just seem to sit and sulk before the next downpour. Does she address the kind of winters we now seem to have here, which wouldn’t feature on any Christmas card?
I know what you mean. I suspect you already use many of her suggestions – getting outdoors, appropriate clothing, settling down to a good read in a cosy room etc. Her main message is about trying to think differently – not complaining endlessly to friends which I do, and acceptance.
Oh, a good moan is sometimes exactly what’s needed!
On occasion!
This sounds like a treat!
Hoping to hang on to my cautiously positive mood after reading it.
As the ‘Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’ kicks in big time, this sounds a good read. Like Margaret, I too hate the damp more than the cold.
Definitely worth a try. I agree about the damp. My birthday present from H this year was a pair of quite stylish waterproof Swedish boots!
My feelings about the colder, darker months changed so substantially after I moved into accommodation that was properly insulated. I really appreciate Leibowitz’s points about trying to find the upsides and not making ourselves worse by complaining endlessly. (I too am furious to discover that outdoor exercise in the winter actually helps me feel better?! A scandal!) I also think that there are some serious structural and institutional barriers in the UK that make this season materially worse than it needs to be, including a large quantity of incredibly inadequate housing stock. As long as people are living in damp, chilly, mould-sprouting rooms, the dread of winter is going to be reasonable. My best guess about the Scandinavian approach is that not only are they culturally good at getting cosy; they’ve also had responsive governments who have done things that make navigating the world in bad weather suck less, which ranges from investing in good housing to ensuring that public transport is reliable, swift, and well-placed.
It’s the lack of light for me, despite living in a south facing house, coupled with the grey damp of the West Country. The Scandis are undoubtedly better at it – I’ve enjoyed two winter breaks there. Socially responsible government is key to ensuring the necessary infrastructure. Only possible, of course, when sufficient tax is paid which seems fair to me.
Same – I could live with a lot of chilly days if the sky were clear and blue along with it. And yeah, absolutely right about tax. There’s the rub.
I always love the scene in I Capture the Castle when the they’re sitting up in bed with mittens and hats on, cosy cosy lovely. The grey lid that covered England for last Jan and Feb not so much so!
That’s a lovely image! I prefer crisp, clear winters but I’ll take grey providing it’s not raining.
I don’t know if I need a book to get me through the next few months in North Kerry. Rather a time machine to transport me straight to Springtime. And I am not totally convinced about the Scandi model of managing winter appropriately. Theres a high incidence of mental health issues and relationship problems in those countries too that I imagine long dark days contribute to.
I’m sure that’s true although, sadly, it’s not so different here. They do seem to have a more pragmatic approach, though.
This is the sort of book that would appeal to me, too, except I fear that by now I’d find it redundant after reading Wintering by Katherine May and While the Earth Holds Its Breath by Helen Moat, which contain similar blends of practical advice, travel narrative, etc. Another I found genuinely helpful was Chasing the Sun by Linda Geddes. I did finally buy a SAD lamp last year.
She mentions Wintering which I had been meaning to read for some time and probably still will. Next autumn, perhaps. Has the lamp been helpful?
It’s hard to say! I would try to sit near it for half an hour per morning as soon after getting up as possible. I’m not sure I was consistent enough with it. At the moment I can’t find it…
I have considered getting one myself. Leibowitz isn’t convinced of their efficacy for most people but she does say it’s important to expose yourself to daylight as soon after waking up as you can which makes sense.
I feel like I’ve got better at winter as I’ve got older, although I do still struggle with the lack of light. Changing my mindset is a wise approach!
Age has helped me, too – having the right clothes, getting outside, planning small treats, exhibtions, cinema all helps – but I know what you mean about light.
I feel as though all of this would change if you had lovely snow instead of dreary rain; there is a winter light, when there’s snow everywhere, but not when it’s grey skies and rain all the time! I hope you’re able to manage this upcoming one a little easier with the help of these ideas.
Thanks, Marcie. She mentions reflected light from snow quite often. I’m currently enjoying vibrant autumn colours standing out against greyness.