Maximum Tilt

By: Gabriela Yareliz

We have reached our “maximum tilt away from the sun,” my almanac tells me for the month of December. I tuck the ribbon bookmark into our last month.

There is a soft tap-tap on the window of rain mixed with some sort of sleet because it sounds harder than just rain. It’s cold outside but not nearly as frigid as the Midwest’s snow slam or Friday’s wind tunnel in NYC, which made it feel like 18F, cutting to the bone.

I feel like I have come full circle with winter. As a child, I found it to be magical. I, like any other kid, hated the heavy coats and getting a zipper jammed into my chin. But I loved seeing the Michigan snowfall, finding maple sap sticky on the bark of trees, and making snow forts outside until the moisture seeped into our mittens and numbed our fingertips.

I have been back in colder climate after a good decade in the South (with a stint in the middle back in the Midwest). I have braved the NYC cold and leapt over giant slushy puddles at intersections for thirteen years. Where does the time go?

The books Wintering by Katherine May and Calm Christmas by Beth Kempton really shifted my perspective toward the magic of the season again. (I am sure marrying someone from a frigid climate helped, as well). When winter arrives, I like to read books that romanticize the season. Books that remind me we can thrive differently and have permission to change with the seasons.

I currently want to go buy tinsel and make a foamy latte. It’s a season that invites us to change pace. The deep darkness invites us to shelter, to move slowly, to pause.

Ironically, I think it has the opposite effect on Russians. We walked through NYC during the 18F, and most of the people who braved the weather and were out and about were Russian. They seem to come alive in this weather.

I saw something recently that made me smile— it said something like “If you put away your phone, you’ll realize it’s still 2007. The mountains haven’t moved. The snow is still piled high.” I think if we slow down and pay attention to the nature in this season, we will be filled with much delight. Removing distractions can help us see what hasn’t changed.

(If you don’t know where to start— start here: How to Actually Look Forward to Winter, an interview with Kari Leibowitz, author of How to Winter. If you have no headphones, read it here).

Short days. Long nights. Deep darkness. Lights sparkle bright.

Permission to winter (as Suzy Reading says) activated!