Winter is for dreaming

Despite having lived in varying winter climates, it’s always been a season I waited for to pass, rather than live through. In university, I lived in the coldest capital city in the world. I’ll always remember how I felt on the first warm spring day after my first bitter East Coast Canadian winter. But this winter, I want to dream and create.

People grunt at weather talk. Fair enough — I went to a party last Friday and found myself starting most of my conversations with people I barely know by saying, “I hate winter.” But when I talk about the weather with people I love, suddenly we’re sharing our reflections and grievances. One of my recent reflections is the irony of having grounded myself in routines to make sure I get out the door in the cold and dark, while also feeling unstimulated and domesticated as a result. Two fears in my life.

Earlier this month, I took a writing class. The instructor made us try writing in many different ways — with our eyes closed and non-dominant hand, to name a couple. Naturally, because everything we create lives within us, I grew more and more bored of my own writing as time went on. I shared these frustrations: Is this the extent of my brain? All the ideas and words I can come up with? In response, she gave a somewhat heated speech on being more “unprecious” about our creations. She said, “So what if there’s only one line we deem worthy out of two full pages of writing? As long as we write authentically, there’s always something good and meaningful in that.”

We as a society are becoming more and more uncomfortable with being uncomfortable. We’d rather find a companion through ChatGPT than go to an in-person speed dating event. I came across a YouTube video of a creator who had just moved to a different city, sharing how difficult it had been. I know first-hand how difficult it is, but everything she was saying puzzled me — comparing the depth of her connections in the new city to friends and family she’d known since childhood, expecting one version of life to be easily replicated in a new environment. Taking this and applying it to myself (because everything is a projection), it’s like how I expect every season to feel the same.

I wrote back in summer that taking risks makes us sexier, cooler, and happier. 2025 was like sink or swim. I was thrown into the task of navigating unexpected life changes, and by the end of it, came out with new connections, habits, and muscles. How lazy of me to complain about lacking inspiration when I’ve been limiting the sources of it, and still expect to be shaken and moved when I’m not creating or risking.

I listened to a Today in Focus podcast where Katherine May, who wrote Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times, talked about… wintering. Some of the points that resonated deeply were when she discussed how much more rest we need in the colder months, and how we need to free up time and space in winter to dream. Listening to her shifted how I saw my recent pattern of wearing the same outfits and batch cooking. In limited daylight and energy, I’m freeing up time and space to dream. Suddenly, there’s a layer of whimsy and spontaneity over my winter routines.

My adult learning classes to (re)learn ballet and French are adding movement to my life, literally and figuratively. When I wasn’t writing or making TikTok videos, I think I was more angry, because energy of all kinds gets trapped in our bodies if we don’t release it. For those classes, I’ve also made a commitment to always walk or take public transportation, to open up possibilities for connection and inspiration. They’re everywhere and infinite, but we have to put ourselves in positions to find them. (I read an article at the beginning of winter on the importance of winter markets. In cold cities like Montreal and Copenhagen, to name a couple, activities are prepared for people to come outside and enjoy the cold. This matters because "If there are people out, other people will come out too to see what's going on.”)

Lastly, I’ve been taking more notes (shoutout to Joan Didion’s Keeping a Notebook) and printing out my photos. I want to collect more physical souvenirs for the purpose of revisiting them for inspiration and prompts. Everything we create lives within us.

And even within one act, there are endless ways to carry it out. For instance, here are some new ways of flexing creativity I learned from the writing class:

• Writing with my non-dominant hand slowed down my thought process to accompany my slower writing.

• Writing with my eyes closed, I found it difficult to start writing. I’m often observational in how I write and need movement.

• Writing with music on and off only further confirmed that I write best when I’m surrounded by movement and white noise. Same with writing while watching a film in the background.

• I hated being forced to write about a still image in front of us or real-life objects in the room. Again, I need movement when I write.

• Lastly, I’ve learned that it’s much harder to be in a flow state when I’m typing. In contrast, when writing everything by hand during this class, my brain wasn’t so worried about spelling or making edits along the way, but about the meat of it all.

At the end of the day, we can’t change the weather, but we can change how and where we make and find meaning. Growing up in the West, I hated the holiday season because we’re socialised to go inward. I didn’t have a big family in Canada, and the family I did have always had to work during this time. Now that my parents have relocated back to Seoul, I love spending the holidays with my family because everything is outward. It’s a time for people to be out and about in the city with their friends, family, and partners.

The first winter I spent in London, I had no choice but to spend the holidays alone because of visa reasons. It was excruciatingly lonely. Fast forward five years, and it couldn’t be more different. Nothing and everything about the city has changed. No matter where we live, we’re nothing without the people in it, our comfort restaurants that make us feel at home, and the traditions and habits we build around them.

Everything is a muscle, a habit, and a relationship. And winter is for dreaming, for ideating, for creating. I want to be cracked up and open, edit my writing less.