Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times

by Katherine May

Samhain was considered to be a moment when the veil between this world and the otherworld was at its thinnest. Old gods had to be placated with gifts and sacrifice, and the trickery of fairies was an even greater risk than usual. This was a liminal moment in the calendar, a time between two worlds, between two phases of the year, when worshippers were about to cross a boundary but hadn’t yet done so. Samhain was a way of marking that ambiguous moment when you didn’t know who you were about to become, or what the future would hold. It was a celebration of limbo.

Life meanders like a path through the woods. We have seasons when we flourish and seasons when the leaves fall from us, revealing our bare bones. Given time, they grow again.

“Druids follow the eightfold Wheel of the Year,” he says, “which means that we have something to do every six weeks. It’s a useful period of time—you always have the next moment in sight. It creates a pattern through the year.”

There is an unrest in my gut that feels like hunger.