Winter Wisdom: Lessons From the Arete Path

“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”
— Albert Camus

(A quick lesson learned facilitating a veteran’s retreat in Montana this month)

The week’s schedule flowed through my mind. Cold plunges, hikes, and discussions tucked in like little children in their neatly organized excel spreadsheet. Rows and columns stood ready to deliver personal transformation. At least, I thought they did.

Day 2 agenda included a hike to Lava Lake: 2.74 miles to the lake, a stop for lunch and a guided discussion on memento mori, followed by solo time on the mountain where everyone would write their eulogy. (In Rites of Passage, memento mori and the eulogy are elements of marking the death of the old self).

The only thing dying on that mountain was my well-laid plans. The temperature dropped, the wind picked up, and the snow started blowing in from the cold North. As I put my gloves on for the hike, I pictured guys writing their eulogies. I was greeted with images of grown men freezing in place scribbling in imperceptible, shiver-induced penmanship. ‘I was, then I died.’

WTF I thought. I only have 2.73 miles to come up with a solution.

The group settled into a rhythm—thoughtful silence interrupted by comments on the scenery and laughter brought on by military banter. This is exactly what we needed.

I realized that my purpose was fulfilled once we parked at the trailhead. The best thing for me to do was to bring them to the mountain. Being present and immersed in the stillness of winter was the greatest lesson. With each step, my spreadsheet faded into oblivion.

On the mountain path we were surrounded in silence. The snowy trail unfolded before us, patiently ushering us to the summit. The windswept slope, lined with dormant grass, accompanied our ascent. The sage and shrubs devoid of last year’s leaves, were already settled in for winter’s embrace. The Northern woods spoke to us through silence, yet the message was loud and clear—exhale. Let go.

So many times, we hear “do this, try this, become this.” Well intentioned or not, it’s worthless advice if it flows into an already full cup. We must first pour out the old to make room for the new.

“For things to reveal themselves to us, we need to be ready to abandon our views about them.” -Thich Nhat Hanh

As the year winds down, I’ve been doing more listening than planning. I feel like I’m at a crossroads and need to reflect a bit more than usual. A few questions I’ve asked myself that might be of value to you:

What are you ready to leave behind?

What needs to stay in the past so you can be reborn in the future?

What are you grateful for?

Creation requires space. The mountain taught us that in real time. All we had to do was listen. To be reborn into new seasons of life, we must follow the wisdom of nature. We must shed and let go.

There, in that quiet space within, the seeds of renewal are planted.

What I learned: There is more wisdom in a blade of grass than in a thousand spreadsheets.

What I know: There is more wisdom in you than in a thousand voices.

Be still and listen.

Special thanks to Kyle Shepard for providing thoughtful feedback on what to write!