[Seasons: Winter IV]
Thankfully retreating is becoming popular. In an overworked and rather unhealthy society, I celebrate the popularization of anything that resembles a healthy corrective. Retreating is a practice to celebrate.
A retreat is simple but profound. It means to withdraw, to disconnect, to rest. Most of us are overdue for a retreat.
There's a problem, however: retreats have also been commodified, and like any commodity, there is a spectrum of status attached to the higher priced options. And with status comes increased attention and more popularity. So, retreating is often conceived as an expensive act of self-pampering rather than a simple withdraw.
Instead of two days in a tent in the woods, a retreat has become a day at the spa or a luxury B&B at the base of the ski slope.
Winter will have none of it. Winter is forced retreat. No status. No cost.
Inherent in the season of winter is a perennial wisdom lost on the modern concept of retreat: withdrawing, disconnecting, and hibernating are too important to miss.
Winter still gives options. Soft or hard retreats. A soft retreat is a slowing down, partial disconnection from what's normal. It allows for catchup, with longer breaks for thinking, bigger investments of time in cooking and eating, and less manic filling of the calendar. A hard retreat is complete disconnection, silence, and hibernation.
Winter offers the conditions for soft retreats without much effort by us. All we do is abide in the seasonal elements—slowing down when it’s cold, laying low when it’s dark. And winter reminds us of our primal need for an occasional hard retreat.
Winter retreating is too important to miss. And there’s no need for a high cost.
