As a Pagan and someone whose daily life is Earth-centered, I’ve always believed—and science is beginning to support me—that SAD may result at least in part from the failure to observe the annual cycles and the season of winter. It may result from denying what we’re really “supposed” to be doing during the dark months: yielding to a deep, instinctive awareness of winter and its special rhythms. Simply said, I think that much of SAD results from a failure to hibernate.
To hibernate means to spend the winter in a dormant state. When animals hibernate, their metabolism is depressed: their vital signs slow, temperature drops, kidney function diminishes, and they appear to sleep deeply, rousing now and then for a bite of food. The word hibernation is also used figuratively to describe a person who remains inactive or indoors for an extended period for an extended period of time. Humans are not known to hibernate in the literal sense—with actual changes in metabolism and level of consciousness—although recent studies have identified hibernation triggers that appear to send humans into a hibernation-like condition, which scientists believe may be useful in treating serious injuries or in long-duration space travel (Harlow). In their book, Why We Get Sick, evolutionary biologists Randolph Nesse and George Williams talk about the remnant of hibernative response in humans and suggest that SAD may indeed be a mal-adaptive response to seasonal change.
Connections between human energy, behavior, and seasonal changes are well-established. We have no problems ramping up our activity level and spending more time outdoors when summer arrives. But at the time of year when darkness is upon us and when our instincts (and the available light) tell us to conserve energy by staying indoors and cutting back our daily routine, we continue to maintain our usual schedules almost as if ignoring winter’s arrival. The vast majority of American adults work eight hours a day, five days a week for fifty or fifty-one weeks out of the year. The schedule doesn’t change from season to season. One day is pretty much like another. Thus, at a time of year when the psyche aches to sit around the fire, engage in small but important tasks, and slow down, we’re pressured to keep up the established routine. In a season traditionally set aside for rest and hibernation, we might do everything but rest. This, in itself, can create a depressed mood if one interprets the normal winter slow-down as something unpleasant or unhealthy. Instead of accepting winter as a normal, seasonal part in their lives, many people lament against the short days and dark nights, rebel against the ebbing of energy, and regard these normal feelings as symptoms of ill health. This type of emotional stress is not only self-perpetuating but can easily lead to actual physical or emotional illness.
Our diet is always an important aspect of supporting health and vitality, and this may be especially important during winter. At a time of year when people normally gain a few pounds (an ancient throw-back to the necessity of adding body fat to guard against starvation), and when we would normally subsist on baked root vegetables, homemade breads, soups, stews, preserved foods, etc., winter finds many people continuing to eat as if it was summertime. We can go to the local market and find imported fresh fruit, seasonal farmed fish, and hothoused baby greens twelve months out of the year. We don’t have to worry about gathering or preserving food because we can buy whatever we want whenever we want it. Now, let’s be clear: I love the taste of a good strawberry as much as the next person, but in most parts of the world, we aren’t meant to be eating fresh, ripe strawberries in January! This modern, uber-access to seasonally inappropriate foods may be helping us ignore the reality of winter.
The research I’ve done suggests that SAD may be related to or influenced by the failure to show an instinctual awareness of Earth’s cyclic year: specifically, by the failure to hibernate properly. Ignoring winter’s routines in one’s daily life sets up a tremendous internal conflict. While our genes and centuries of tradition scream at us to slow down and hunker around the fire, the modern world and its expectations scream even louder at us to keep going!
I’ve served as my own guinea pig in investigating these ideas. Several years back, I began making a conscious effort to “observe winter” as fully as I could. I’m someone who has always loved winter, but even I noticed the ebb of energy and sometimes a slight displeasure at not being able to do everything I wanted to be doing. Once I had formulated my theories on the problems of failed hibernation, I dug into winter in earnest. Retreating to my own house (cave) with my loved ones during the dark months, I cut back on my social schedule and on externally imposed routines. I began going to bed earlier and found that it felt good. I used fewer lights in the house, leaving lights on only in the rooms I was in and dimming those when I could. I lit more hearth fires and worked by candle and lamplight when I could, and I soon found that the soft lights created a wondrously comforting mood that traditional lighting missed altogether. In the evenings, I invited friends and family to join me in quiet pastimes: cross-stitch, reading, and so on. (And yes—some television too. No one’s perfect!) We visited and played games and shared stories. I tackled a couple of big magickal projects: a deep study of runes and the staged crafting of a hiking staff. One of the most concrete changes I made was absolute adherence to a winter diet,
