Nature as Our Teacher

At this time of year, we feel the revving up of the world around us — the pace quickening as we move toward the end of the year and the celebrations that come with it. There is a collective sense of urgency, a leaning forward, a push to fit everything in before the year turns.

And yet, the natural world invites something entirely different.

These darker, quieter months ask us to slow down. To turn inward. To let ourselves be held.

Nature whispers an invitation to soften. To exhale. To remember that rest is not a luxury but a fundamental part of our cyclical existence.

Learning From the Seasonal Shift

So how can we allow ourselves to sink into the rhythm of nature? How might we consciously let our leaves fall — releasing what is no longer needed — and allow the sap within our bones to settle and replenish?

I have personally made the decision to take my foot off the gas after a year of growth and momentum. It hasn’t been simple; the old pattern of pushing is a familiar one, and it takes awareness to loosen its grip. But I know that by honouring this inward pull, I’m offering myself the best chance of arriving in spring with freshness, clarity, and space for new green shoots to emerge.

Nature as a Teacher of Resilience

Nature shows us that resilience isn’t forged through constant striving. It grows in cycles.

Nothing in the wild world thrives in perpetual summer. Growth requires rest. Vitality requires darkness. Strength is rooted in surrender as much as in action.

The trees do not question the wisdom of letting their leaves fall. The soil doesn’t apologise for lying fallow. Animals who migrate, hibernate, or slow their rhythms aren’t doing less — they are doing exactly what they need to ensure their survival and wellbeing.

What if we allowed ourselves the same grace?

When we align with the seasonal rhythm, resilience becomes something that grows naturally, from the inside out. Like roots deepening unseen in winter, we build foundations during the quieter months that support us long after the frost has lifted.

Nature doesn’t rush, and yet she is never late.There is such profound wisdom in that.

Embracing Winter as a Practice

Let this season be a teacher. Notice the softened light, the earlier evenings, the stillness that comes when the world grows darker. These aren’t inconveniences — they are invitations.

Here are some gentle ways to lean into winter’s rhythm:

• Allow yourself moments of intentional slowness

• Rest without justification

• Nurture quiet creativity

• Spend time outside even when the light is soft and brief

• Let go of something you’ve been carrying too long

• Choose depth over pace

• Seek connection that feels nourishing rather than demanding

Perhaps winter is not a season to endure, but a sanctuary to enter.

"Bare branches never rush to dress themselves again.

They stand unadorned, unafraid, breathing the cold air clean.

They know the promise of cycles, the wisdom in being still.

And I, too, am trying to greet the quiet season with an open heart and unclenched hands."

Gathering in the Darker Months

If you feel called to explore this more deeply, I warmly invite you to join my Women’s Circles. Together we rest, reflect, and reconnect with the natural rhythms that live within us — especially during these shorter days, when community and shared presence become even more powerful.

Let’s honour winter not as an ending, but as the quiet ground of beginning.A returning to ourselves.A remembering of our place in the wider cycles of nature.