As the seasons change and as a blanket of grey shields us from a bright blue sky and rays of sunlight, I find it all too easy to just stay inside. I am (admittedly) less inclined to go out unless it’s for work, a quick smoke or to walk a friend to their car. I shuffle onto public transit to work and shield my face from the sharp wind of a winter creeping in. My eyes are glued to the sidewalk and the backs of the boots click clacking in front of me and once I get inside, I peel off the layers that protect me from the elements and exhale as if I’d escaped something.
Every time the seasons change from Fall to Winter I tell myself that “seasonal depression will not best me this year”, and yet it does with ease. Wrapped together with a comforter, my cellphone, and a space heater, tied neatly with a bow, I gift myself some time allocated to rotting. Only a bit— Never for too long!
Cold weather is unwelcoming; in the summertime, I’d set my cell to greyscale to make it all the less appetizing to the eye so I could spend some much-needed time in the real world— but now that the sky looks as yummy as a piece of paper, the virtual world reels me in, and I put up less of a fight.
Before the sun went away, I was excited for the cold weather. It felt right that the seasons should change and I figured that perhaps too much of anything wasn’t good for you and that Mother Natures’ spirit knew better than I ever could, so I’d be good to thank her. By now I’d forgotten all of that and had settled myself somewhere deep under the covers, scrolling past Instagram stories too fast to read them, and sometimes unable to stop.
As I write this, I occasionally glance out the window to take note of the dark, cloud-covered sky; the great big tree in the backyard that’s been stripped of its leaves; and the tall Canadian pines that reach up high as they do year round. I see the faded yellow pinecones hanging from their untouched, out-of-reach, tree tops and I find my wonder again.
I imagine for a moment sticking my head out of the window, allowing my skin to prickle and sting, allowing the cold to wash over my shoulders so I can shake out the anger I have for Mother Nature and her natural cycles.
I bow my head down and remind myself that it is a privilege to exist in her world and that I am occupying space on the colonized land of the Mississaugas of the Credit Ojibwe. Nature is humbling when it makes us uncomfortable. The changing of the seasons serves as a reminder that we are beings of the land made comfortable by the infrastructures built by decades of colonial rule turned suburban-capitalist-wonder-wasteland.
There is much to be angry about these days and just as much to be sad. I want this post to be a frequency shift; for Winter to be a reason to rejoice even if it does weigh particularly heavy on our mental health as well as our physical bodies. It is a necessary time in the year for healing, wisdom sharing, movement, and of course survival.
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Note:
All information in the following portion has been researched and pulled from articles, blogposts, and educational websites and all my research will be linked at the end. I’ve learned so much through this deep dive and I encourage you to explore my sources! I myself am not indigenous First Nations/Native American, and so welcome any feedback/comments that could help strengthen this post 🙂
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My most recent fixation has been the past, specifically old worlds, civilizations, or people. Sometimes, when I feel the weight of everything on my shoulders, I find myself drawn to “simpler times”; before technology and doom scrolling, a time when someone's only concern might have been taking care of their family and survival. I do acknowledge that “simpler times” do not mean easier times, but I fantasize anyway and take the opportunity to learn some history.
One thing we can take from First Nations people is their respect for winter as an entity. The Ojibwe people, also known as Anishinaabe or Chippewa3 spent spring, summer, and fall preparing for winter in order to survive1; this included food harvesting (corn, beans, squash, and other vegetables), the crafting of suitable garments (often made of rabbit and caribou furs and skins) and tools, as well as the construction of a winter lodge which would house sometimes up to three generations of family. There are also many books written about different native traditions of watching certain types of animal, plant, and weather behavior as an indication that the coming winter will be more or less severe2.
The Ojibwe Native American Tribes of Minnesota, Wild Rice Harvest
Copyright Minnesota Historical Society, Ojibwe lodge near Lake Bemidji, ca 1895
We are not the hunter-gathers we used to be, that’s for sure. But when it comes to winter survival, reframing the way we view the season can help mentally prepare us for what lies ahead. We can plan and anticipate, and we can only do our best to put ourselves in a good position to make it through. I think of First Nations people surviving climates and conditions historically harsher than what we experience today and feel hope that I can do it too— even though I live a very cushioned life in comparison with a whole different set of problems.
There were many ways for the Ojibwe to keep busy in the wintertime as well. Keeping warm was a full-time occupation. It wasn’t uncommon for them to coat their skin with bear and goose grease. This both repelled moisture and retained heat4. This reminds me of putting vaseline on my nose and cheeks when I was young and is still a practice I do today when I know I’ll be outside for a long period of time. During the winters, men still hunted, fished through the ice, and trapped animals for their warmest furs. The women did the handwork needed for the next summer, including making clothing and decorating it, making baskets, carving bowls, and - of course - tending to the children1.
Gerald Vizenor, a renowned Native American writer from White Earth Reservation in northwestern Minnesota, suggests a unique item necessary to survive a harsh winter — a good storyteller5. Family piled up together in a lodge on those harsh winter nights were also times of peace and introspection. It was a time for togetherness and teaching.
Bark Wigwam, Ojibwa at Lake Winnipeg, Manitoba, 1884. Courtesy Geological Survey of Canada/595
This was traditionally the time for the children to hear the aadizookaanag (Aa-di-soo-kaa-nag) (legends) of how the Anishinabeg (Ani-shinaa-beg) (Ojibwe) came to be, how they received the gifts of fire, birch bark, tobacco and mahnomin (ma-n00-min) (wild rice)1. Tradition tells that when a well-known relative of the Anishinabeg leaves his human form and takes the shape of wabooz (the snowshoe hare); when he sits down and lights his pipe when the smoke rises and the snow falls, that is when the legends are heard1.
Courtesy of Fisher Star Creations Anishinaabe Art Blog
It makes sense that time spent inside had become an opportunity for togetherness. In my life, with family and friends, I set the intention to cultivate a sense of togetherness whenever I find myself in a group setting. All summer I found myself saying over and over again “I’ve got to get outside before we all run in for the winter,” and while it is true that many of us might be encouraged to stay in or be more isolated than we are in the bright and encouraging months of summer, I believe we owe it to ourselves to use time spent in as wisely as we can by cultivating deeper relationships with those around us.
Not everyone lives with their family, but many do in the wake of the housing crisis. We don’t all get along with our families, and for good reasons, but we can do our best to get to know each other more deeply, even if we don’t always agree. We can tuck in with our partners and pose questions to each other that we might have been too hyper in the summertime to begin to think about. We can make unlikely friends. We can find a friend in ourselves as beings who are constantly changing.
More and more videos talking about loneliness and the way it is plaguing humanity in today’s hyper-digital world are popping into my recommendations over and over and so I want to encourage everyone to touch each other. Speak with one another. Learn from each other. Learn something. Explore your land and form a relationship with the place in which you reside and those that reside in it with you, distant and near.
With all the information out there readily available and begging to be consumed, I’ve been trying to be intentional about what I’m consuming; to be the one seeking information instead of taking what’s placed in front of me by an algorithm. My friends, my ability to cultivate awareness, and regular learning have become anchors to keep me grounded in love within an infrastructure that aims to sell to and distract me from what really matters.
As I finish up this blog post I’m sat up with a comforter over my legs with my gym clothes still on. I’d started skipping the gym as soon as the temperature dipped below 5 degrees Celsius and today was my first day back after a week and a half of skipping. My tired little workaholics and hustlers, give yourself a moment to adjust to the cold season. Observe and prepare, and check the forecast before you leave the house (don’t be like me). And of course, don’t forget to put Vaseline on your nose.
References
1 Grand Portage: Biboon - Winter Lifeways of the Ojibwe
http://npshistory.com/brochures/grpo/winter-lifeways.pdf
2 5 indigenous techniques for getting through winter the old-fashioned way
3 Ojibwe Lifeways
4 Surviving Winter - Native Americans
https://colonialquills.blogspot.com/2019/01/surviving-winter-native-americans.html
5 How did Minnesota's indigenous people survive the extreme winters?
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