Personally, last holiday season felt very different than 2025. That year, I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. It wasn’t that anything was particularly “wrong,” but something felt off. As the season unfolded, I found myself questioning the energy of it all – how we move from one season to the next, how we celebrate, and what those celebrations actually hold energetically. I began wondering how much of what we do is aligned with the natural world and how much of it is simply conditioning.

My connection to the natural world has always been there. I grew up on a 22-acre farm – a little oasis tucked inside an otherwise urban environment. We were surrounded by neighborhoods, but within our property there were woods, open land, and a creek. I spent a lot of time wandering alone. Watching. Exploring. That upbringing planted an early curiosity about nature, rhythm, and presence. It helped me see the beauty that is around us when you slow down enough to actually observe.

Fast-forward to adulthood and that same curiosity resurfaced last New Year’s in a different way. As I continued questioning energy, our actions, our behaviors, and the pace at which we move, I began to wonder about the way we approach January itself. New Year’s resolutions. The pressure to start strong. The expectation that motivation should be immediate and sustained.

In our culture, January is framed as a clean slate. A time to set goals, to overhaul habits, to commit to a “new you.” So many people jump in with good intentions, only to find themselves discouraged a few weeks later. When the habits don’t stick, we tend to internalize that as failure.

Last year, I started asking a different question: what if the problem isn’t us but simply the timing?

Based on scientific research, we already know that sustainable change is rooted in awareness, values, and preparation. Beyond that, winter, energetically and seasonally, is not about growth or transformation. In nature, very little appears to be happening.

Yet beneath the surface, everything is happening. Roots draw their energy back. Nutrients are gathered. Systems strengthen quietly underground so that growth is possible later. Nothing is rushing. Nothing is trying to prove itself.

I wonder, how much more in flow might we be if we allowed ourselves to do the same? What if January wasn’t a time to push, but a time to pause? What if rest, retreat, and reflection were not signs of stagnation, but part of how we lay the inner groundwork for the year ahead?

Winter brings the longest nights and the shortest days. We are, quite literally, in the darkest part of the year. But that darkness also carries a reminder: lighter days are coming. The light hasn’t disappeared, it’s just not fully visible yet. There’s beauty in that. A kind of enchantment that winter holds if we’re willing to see it.

Nature sheds everything. Trees stand bare. Energy turns inward. There’s no clinging, no forcing. Just raw truth and trust that light will return.

Recently, after a new year’s eve group Sound Bath Meditation, a few participants stayed behind to talk. (Those conversations, when people linger, reflect, and share are a favorite part of this work.) That evening, we found ourselves talking about stillness and rest. I had encouraged the group to give themselves permission to slow down, to call back their energy, and to resist the urge to rush into resolutions. If we allow ourselves to rest now, to truly rest, we enter spring with energy to spare. With roots that are nourished and strong, and a capacity to grow.

One of our community members, Nick, offered a reflection that I really appreciated it. We were talking about how much we often resist rest and he wondered aloud if part of that resistance comes from how we define productivity. What if there is value, real benefits, in slowing down? What if rest isn’t wasted time, but an intentional, and even necessary, time to process?

Some of the most painful experiences in our lives take an enormous amount of energy to move through. If we’re constantly going, constantly distracted, constantly pushing forward, we don’t give ourselves the space to metabolize those experiences. We do not fully process them. When that happens, it becomes difficult to move from darkness into light.

Rest, in that sense, becomes a form of therapeutic support. A way of being with what is and allowing insight, awareness, and meaning to emerge without force.

Winter reminds us of this again and again. Growth doesn’t always look like action. Some of the most transformative moments in our lives happen quietly in subtle shifts, in reflection, in moments where nothing appears to be happening at all. Those moments deepen our foundation and strengthen our roots. When life inevitably brings challenge, loss, or uncertainty, it’s that foundation that allows us to stay in flow and bend without breaking.

As I listen to how people speak about their lives and watch how they move through their days, it’s hard to ignore how exhausted our community at large seems to be.

So many have shared they are stretched thin. Running on autopilot. Moving through the motions of work, family, and responsibility while quietly craving more presence, more connection, more space to rest. Even this past holiday season I heard from many that it just felt different, just “meh”.

This is why I believe this season, winter, feels especially important to pay attention to.

If we’re already exhausted, perhaps winter’s invitation to rest isn’t something to resist, maybe it’s truly a gift. We are not in summer. This is not a time that requires high energy, constant output, or relentless momentum. Winter offers us something else entirely: permission to rest deeply and intentionally.

Rest is not the absence of health; it’s part of it. A truly healthy, whole person is not always on the go. They create intentional space to recharge, to restore energy, to refocus, and to calm both body and mind. Rest is not something we earn after productivity, it is something that allows us to live more intentionally in the first place. Rest is how we create lives that are resilient rather than reactive.

What if we approached this winter as an opportunity to play with a different way of being. To notice what shifts when we lean into rest instead of resisting it. To observe how small changes ripple outward into our work, our relationships, our homes, and our inner lives.

During our 2025 Mindful Holidays Challenge, the intention was to create a different relationship with the holiday season, one rooted in awareness, self-care, and honesty. I keep wondering: what if we carried a similar intention forward? What if we allowed ourselves to create a different energetic relationship not just with this season, but with all seasons? What might change if rest became something we practiced on purpose throughout the year?

Winter offers us a chance to clarify what matters. To tend to our values. To nourish ourselves with warmth – warm meals, reflective practices, quiet moments, and gentleness. To allow ourselves to be a little bare, a little raw, a little more honest about what we need.

This season isn’t asking us to do more or become more. It’s inviting us to meet ourselves where we are and prepare, slowly and intentionally, for what’s to come. 

As you move through this season, you might find it meaningful to explore:

• Where in your life are you resisting rest?
• How might leaning into this season of rest create a stronger foundation for the months ahead?
• What rituals or practices could you experiment with this winter to support a greater sense of peace and alignment?