Shadow Work: The Winter of Our Souls

August 17th — Yesterday's post sparked a thought I couldn't shake.

Yesterday I shared a blog post called Shadow Work: 6 Ways It Can Change Your Life. For the illustration of the post,  I chose a winter landscape: blue snow, pale sky, and the horizon painted in yellow light.

And afterwards, I kept thinking: shadow work really is the winter of our souls.

Winter is heavy. It's cold, quiet, and often feels endless. Nothing seems to grow, and everything looks bare. That is what shadow work feels like, too. Walking through stillness, facing the dark, carrying the weight. Sometimes it feels like you're stuck in a season that has no end, wondering if the light will ever return.

But nature reminds us that even in the coldest, darkest months, something is happening. Beneath the surface, the soil is resting. Roots are alive underground. Trees hold their strength deep inside. Nothing visible, and yet everything necessary. Shadow work carries the same wisdom. The season of darkness may not show progress on the outside, but inside, something essential is preparing to change.

It is uncomfortable. Often lonely. Sometimes frightening. When we are in it, we want to rush through, to escape the stillness, to force the spring to come early. But winter cannot be hurried, and neither can shadow work. Both demand patience. Both invite us to surrender.

And perhaps that is the hidden gift: learning to stay present even when it's dark. Learning to trust that rest is also growth. That wounds showing up is not a setback, but part of the cycle.

I used to hate winter. I still don't fully love it. But I've learned to appreciate its gifts: the bright, sunny days when the snow sparkles, the cozy evenings by the fire place with a cup of hot chocolate in my hands. Winter gives permission to live a little slower. And healing does the same.

I've also realized that you cannot force healing, just as you cannot force spring. It may be uncomfortable, but if you embrace it, you'll one day look back with pride. You'll see how much strength you gained, and how much you learned about yourself.

And sometimes, having a gentle tool beside you can make the season of shadow a little softer. That's why I created the Gentle Shadow Journal — a space to write, reflect, and meet your inner winter with kindness. If you're walking through your own season of shadow, it might be a companion you'd love.

Remember, spring always follows. No winter lasts forever. And when it does end, when light slowly returns, when the first blossoms finally break through frozen ground, their beauty takes our breath away precisely because we've lived through the cold. We recognize the miracle of growth because we remember the silence before it.

Shadow work is not forever. It's the winter of our souls — the stillness before movement, the darkness before dawn, the necessary pause before blooming. ❄️🌱✨

What season of the soul are you in right now? I'd love to hear your reflections. Share with me in the comments, or come join me on Instagram @selflavie. 

Soft hugs,
Selflavie