Winter isn’t just “the dark time.” It’s the womb. The den.The dreaming. The underground place where Mother Bear gives birth in her sleep, and trees quietly move their sugar back into the roots.

Empire taught us to fear this season in ourselves, any descent, any slowing, any life that looks “unproductive” from the outside. But what if the parts of you that look dead right now are refusing to perform for a world that won’t let you dream?

I wrote about Bear, Badger, Uku Pacha, roots, and the wild, sacred art of vanishing for a while, so your real life can be conceived in the dark. 🌑🪵🐻