When the time changes there is a sense of battening down the hatches and the need to stay inside by the fire. This is not a modern experience as Samhain, the precursor of today’s Halloween, marks the beginning of winter and is the threshold between the light and dark halves of the year. This contrast between light and dark may also be seen in the colours associated with Halloween, with orange symbolising the summer sun; and black, the darkness of the shortening day and long nights.
For Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung, darkness was not simply something to escape. He saw the ‘shadow’ – the parts of ourselves we prefer not to recognise – as a possible source of renewal. If we see the shadow part of ourselves as a garden in winter, we can use this season for rest, repair and new growth.
In late autumn, leaves fall, plants die back, and much of the visible life in the garden disappears. Yet beneath the surface, roots persist and leaf litter begins to break down. In time, that material becomes compost: dark and extraordinarily fertile. Similarly, the shadow part of our lives contains the feelings and capacities we have learned to hide – anger, envy, grief, fear, shame, or vulnerability. But the shadow side may also contain strengths that were never encouraged – confidence, creativity, ambition, tenderness, or the ability to say no.
Winter is an opportunity to examine some aspects of our shadow and turn them into new growth. A simple walk and a journal can be enough to do this. If you notice something decaying, a plant nudging its way through the leaves, an empty bird’s nest, or even a tiny bud, ask the same about yourself. ‘What in my life is ending, resting, or returning to the soil?’What is quietly being kept alive?’ Keeping a journal of these insights is a way to reflect on them also. Since our shadows often contain painful events writing about them helps organise chaotic memories into a coherent narrative, which in turn lowers cortisol levels and reduces depressive symptoms. Writing also lowers the emotional triggers associated with painful events and enables one to see the shadow more objectively, thus building self-awareness. It is very like being half awake and hearing something creak outside the window. Pulling up the blind simply reveals a branch swaying against a fence. This is why winter is so valuable if we use the dark days to turn the compost into the soil for new beginnings.
Winter is different to summer and modern living tries to make them both the same. They aren’t. Winter asks for rest, warmth, nourishment, and a willingness to accept that not everything can be solved by doing more, but more can be achieved by doing less, namely, observing, resting, and reflecting.
It is the time of year to dig up roots in the herb garden and after the full moon in November (November 24 this year) I will be busy harvesting lovage, marshmallow, elecampane and many others. At this time of the year these roots have absorbed all the energy of the long summer days and serve as a reminder that deep in the ground ,with no trace of growth, they are at their maximum therapeutic potential. This winter we too need to gently look at the buried parts of ourselves, our shadow, to see its potential for renewing and healing us.
