I struggled this winter. Here’s what changes I’m making.
I’m an experimenter. It’s in my design to fail. To refine. To fail again. To tweak. That’s how I learn.
Any other line 3s in human design out there?
Trial and error has always been my teacher. I try something, observe what happens, and adjust. Sometimes that means things don’t work the first time. Sometimes it means I fall flat on my face before I find what actually supports me.
This winter felt like one of those seasons.
I would be lying if I said I felt wonderful all winter. I live at the 48th latitude. While it’s not as far north as some places, it is far enough that seasonal depression is practically normalized here.
People expect winter to feel heavy.
It is gray. It is wet. It is cold. The days are short and the sun often hides behind a thick blanket of clouds.
I understand why people struggle.
But I am not willing to accept feeling low, drained, or disconnected for several months of every year. Not when I know the environment shapes us so deeply. Not when our bodies are designed to move in rhythm with the earth.
And I love where I live far too much to move somewhere closer to the equator.
So instead, I experiment.
Over the past year I have been learning more about circadian rhythms, light exposure, temperature adaptation, and ancestral ways of living in seasonal climates. The deeper I go, the more I realize that thriving in a northern latitude is less about escaping winter and more about learning how to live with it.
These are the changes I am making as I move into the next cycle.
sunrise light first thing
The most foundational shift for me has been prioritizing sunrise light.
Even when it is cloudy. Even when the sky is gray.
Getting outside and letting natural light hit my eyes first thing in the morning anchors the body’s circadian rhythm. It tells the brain what time it is. It sets the hormonal rhythm for the entire day.
Jack Kruse puts it bluntly:
“80% of your health and longevity is going to be tied to seeing the sunrise every day of your life from this day forward. That is non-negotiable. So I don’t care where you are, I don’t care if it’s raining, I don’t care if it’s cloudy. You get out and you look to the east.”
I have found this to be surprisingly powerful. Even on dark winter mornings, that moment of stepping outside and facing the light feels like a reset.
grounding daily
I am also committing to grounding every day.
Bare feet in the grass when the weather allows. Hands in the soil. Sitting on the earth. Letting my body reconnect with the electrical environment we evolved in.
It sounds simple, but the more I learn about the relationship between the human body and the earth, the more it feels essential rather than optional.
cleaning up my light environment
Winter means we spend more time indoors, which means artificial light plays a much bigger role in how our bodies function.
This year I am being more intentional about my light environment. Warmer lights in the evening. Fewer bright overhead lights after sunset. Less screen exposure late at night.
In nature, darkness is part of the rhythm. Our bodies need that signal in order to rest and repair.
eating in season
Food is another way I am learning to align with the seasons.
Instead of chasing summer foods in the middle of winter, I am leaning into what naturally grows and stores well in colder climates. Root vegetables. Local meat. Nourishing broths. Foods that feel grounding and warming.
Balanced, pro metabolic meals that support energy rather than drain it.
There is something deeply stabilizing about eating the way people in this climate always have.
more fresh air, less constant heat
Another small shift has been opening the windows more often and relying a little less on constant indoor heat.
Fresh air changes the way a home feels. It wakes the body up. It reminds me that winter air is not something to hide from.
Cold has its own kind of vitality.
cold adaptation
Next year I plan to begin cold adapting in the ocean throughout the autumn season.
The goal is not to push my body to extremes. It is simply to reacquaint myself with cold as something natural rather than something to avoid at all costs.
Our ancestors lived with cold. Their bodies knew it well.
I want to remember that relationship.
my goal for next winter
My goal is to move through next winter without feeling like I need to chase sunlight on my skin just to feel okay. Not because sunshine is bad. Quite the opposite. But because I want my body to feel resilient enough to meet winter where it is.
To feel steady in the darker months.
To move through the season with energy and presence instead of waiting for spring to feel like myself again.
Really, this whole experiment is about something deeper.
It is about remembering how to live in rhythm with the land I call home.
Winter is not something to survive. It is something to experience fully. The quiet. The darkness. The slower pace.
The goal is not to beat the winter blues.
The goal is to learn how to belong here.
Just like my ancestors once did.
