An Invitation Into Inner Winter

Somewhere between the last bright blaze of autumn leaves and the first steady hush of snowfall, we arrive at a threshold. The days grow shorter, the air sharper, the evenings longer. We’re moving toward the winter solstice on December 21 — the longest night of the year, the turning point where the sun pauses, then slowly begins to return.

Out in the world, this time is loud: holidays, travel, gatherings, obligations, lists. But under all of that, something softer is happening. Nature is lowering her voice. Trees are conserving their energy. Seeds are tucked into the dark earth. Animals are slowing down, hibernating, or moving inward to burrows and dens.

And somewhere inside of us, there is often a similar urge:to rest,to reflect,to turn inward.

This blog is an invitation to honor that urge — not as an indulgence, but as a spiritual practice. To see this season not only as “busy” or “festive,” but as a time for depth, quiet, and replenishment. To explore what it really means to “go inward” through a yogic lens, and to offer simple practices that help you live in rhythm with the season, rather than in resistance to it.

Winter as a Spiritual Teacher

Think for a moment about how the natural world behaves in late fall and winter.

Leaves fall. Growth slows. What’s unnecessary is shed. Life retreats below the surface: into roots, seeds, soil, and hidden places. There is a conservation of energy — not because life has ended, but because it’s reorganizing itself for the long game.

In many ways, this is winter’s first teaching: Slowness is not failure. Stillness is not stagnation. Rest is part of growth.

And yet, our culture tends to move in the opposite direction. The end of the year often comes with:

• extra hours at work or year-end deadlines,

• social obligations and travel,

• financial pressure,

• intense stimulation (news, screens, noise, consumption).

  
  

The result? Many of us arrive at the darkest months feeling overextended instead of deeply rooted.

Ancient wisdom traditions invite us to consider: What if winter isn’t a problem to push through, but a teacher to learn from?

What if we let the long nights and quiet mornings remind us that we, too, are cyclical beings — not machines meant to output at the same level all year long?

What Does It Actually Mean to “Go Inward”?

We often hear phrases like “go within,” “go inward,” “turn inside” — but what does that actually mean in daily life?

Let’s start by saying what it’s not:

• It’s not spiraling into rumination or worrying alone.

• It’s not isolating yourself from everyone and everything.

• It’s not spiritually bypassing hard realities with “love and light,” while ignoring what’s painful.

  
  

In the yogic sense, “going inward” means reclaiming your attention from all the external pulls, and gently directing it toward your inner landscape: your body, breath, emotions, intuition, and values.

It’s the difference between:

• automatically reacting vs. pausing and responding,

• scrolling for an hour vs. sitting quietly for five minutes,

• running on autopilot vs. asking, “What do I truly need today?”

  
  

Going inward doesn’t mean the outer world disappears. It means you’re no longer only orienting from there. You become willing to listen to what’s happening inside of you — and let that matter.

Inner Turning in Yogic and Wisdom Traditions

You don’t have to look far to notice that many spiritual and healing traditions agree: there is a time to outwardly act, and a time to inwardly listen.

Yoga: Pratyāhāra and the Inner Limbs

In the Eight Limbs of Yoga, there is a beautiful progression:

• Pratyāhāra – often translated as “withdrawal of the senses.” Not as in shutting down your senses, but in choosing where your attention rests. Instead of being pulled outward by every sound, sight, and ping, you gently turn your awareness toward your inner experience.

• Dhāraṇā – one-pointed concentration, like resting your awareness on the breath, a mantra, or a point in the body.

• Dhyāna – meditative absorption, when that focused attention begins to flow more effortlessly.

Winter naturally supports these inner limbs. The quieter mornings, longer nights, and slower pace (when we allow it) can make it easier to sit, breathe, and reflect.

Ayurveda: Matching the Season

Ayurveda views late fall and winter as a time when vata dosha (air + ether) and then kapha dosha (earth + water) are prominent, depending on your climate. Vata can bring cold, dryness, and movement; emotionally, that can feel like anxiety, scattered energy, or restlessness. The antidote? Warmth, oil, routine, and deep nourishment — physically, mentally, and spiritually.

Ayurveda teaches that this is a season to build ojas: your deep vitality, juiciness, and resilience. That looks like:

• rest (actual rest, not just collapsing),

• warm, cooked foods,

• steady daily rhythms,

• and practices that calm and ground your nervous system.

  
  

Other Wisdom Traditions

You can see similar themes in other systems: in Chinese medicine, winter is associated with the water element, deep reserves, and learning to trust stillness. In many Indigenous cultures, winter is a time for storytelling, gathering by the fire, remembering, and dreaming forward.

You don’t have to go deep into all of these traditions to receive the shared message: There is a season for depth, quiet, and replenishment. And this is it.

Practices for Inner Wintering (On and Off the Mat)

Inner work doesn’t have to be dramatic or complicated. In fact, winter is often asking for the opposite: small, steady practices that build warmth, stability, and presence over time.

Here are some ways to “inner winter” — to live this season as a conscious practice.

1. Sensory Turning-In: Everyday Pratyāhāra

You don’t have to be in a cave or an ashram to practice pratyāhāra. You can practice in your living room, your car, or at the studio.

Some ideas:

• Candlelight time:Once or twice a week, in the evening, turn off harsh overhead lights. Light a candle, sit down, and do a few gentle stretches or a short meditation by that soft glow. Let the world get a little quieter.

• Digital ‘sunset’:Choose a nightly “screen curfew,” even if it’s just 15–30 minutes before bed. Those minutes can be your time to practice breathing, journaling, or simply sitting and feeling your body.

• Single-sense focus:For a few minutes, choose one sense to rest on — the feeling of your breath at your nostrils, the sound of the rain, the warmth of a mug in your hands. Let that be your meditation.

  
  

These practices are less about perfection and more about pattern-breaking — gently interrupting constant outwardness with intentional inwardness.

2. Gentle, Restorative Movement

In a season where so much feels contracted or frozen, gentle movement can help energy flow without depleting you.

On the mat, that might look like:

• Restorative yoga with long-held, fully supported postures.

• Yin yoga focused on hips, low back, and shoulders — places where we store tension.

• Slow, simple sun salutations at a pace that honors and meets your energy.

You might choose one or two days per week where your practice is explicitly “low and slow” — not to “get somewhere,” but to meet yourself exactly as you are.

3. Breath & Meditation for the Dark Season

Your breath is one of your most powerful tools for turning inward. You might explore:

• Extended exhale breathing: Inhale for a count of 4, exhale for a count of 6 or 8. This can help downshift your nervous system and ease anxious, vata-aggravated energy.

• Three-part breath (dirga pranayama): Breathing into the belly, ribs, and chest, then exhaling slowly. Imagine filling your inner well being filled and replenished with each inhale.

• Simple seasonal meditations or journal prompts:

  • “What can I release with this exhale?”

  • “What needs more warmth and care in my life right now?”

  • “What seeds am I quietly gestating for the year ahead?”

Even 5 minutes counts. The practice still works.

4. Journaling & Gentle Self-Study

Winter is an ideal time for svādhyāya — self-study. You might ask yourself:

• What did this year teach me — about my body, my relationships, my limits, my resilience?

• Where did I feel most aligned? Where did I feel most drained?

• What am I ready to lovingly set down as the year ends?

• What do I want to protect and nourish as the light returns?

  
  

You can journal, voice-note, or talk these questions through with a friend. The point is not to judge yourself, but to know yourself more honestly and compassionately.

5. Community as Inner Support

Going inward does not mean doing it all alone.

In fact, practicing in community can support you in turning inward more safely and sustainably. When you sit in a room of people breathing, resting, or moving with intention, your nervous system gets the message: it’s okay to soften; you’re not doing this by yourself. This might look like:

• coming to restorative or yin classes more often than you otherwise do;

• joining a workshop focused on sound, breath, yoga nidra, or meditation;

• or simply setting a regular time to meet a friend at the studio or on Zoom.

  
  

Inner work becomes more possible when we feel supported — not just spiritually, but socially.

Living in a Culture That Resists Rest

Of course, all of this is easier to say than to live. We inhabit a culture that often:

• equates worth with productivity,

• glorifies busyness,

• and treats rest as a reward you earn after you’ve exhausted yourself.

  
  

That’s why wintering — choosing slowness, inwardness, and rest — can feel uncomfortable at first. It can even feel like you’re doing something “wrong.”

Yoga offers us another perspective: You are not a machine. You are a living being in a living body. You are allowed to align with natural rhythms, not just social calendars.

Rest is not laziness. Quiet is not avoidance. Going inward is not selfish.

Rest is how your nervous system resets. Quiet is how you hear your own wisdom. Going inward is how you remember who you are beneath roles, expectations, and noise.

In that sense, choosing even one weekly moment of inner wintering is an act of courage — and of love.

The Winter Solstice: Turning Toward the Light From the Inside Out

On December 21, the winter solstice, we experience the longest night and the shortest day of the year. After that, the light begins to return, little by little.

This is another of winter’s teachings: Even at the darkest point, a turning is already underway.

You might honor the solstice (formally or quietly) by reflecting on:

• One thing you’re ready to release into the long night — a habit, a belief, a pattern of overdoing.

• One quality you want to tend in the months ahead — perhaps steadiness, compassion, courage, or joy.

• One simple practice you’re willing to carry forward — a weekly class, a short morning ritual, a nightly breathing pause.

  
  

The point is not to make a huge list of resolutions or fix everything overnight. It’s to mark the moment, acknowledge the season, and choose even a small act of alignment.

A Gentle Invitation

As we move from fall into winter, from more light into less, from outer activity into inner call, you don’t have to overhaul your entire life to honor this season.

Your inner winter also doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. It just needs to be honest — a real response to where you are and what you’re living.

As you navigate this time, may you remember:

You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to go slow. You are allowed to listen inward. And you don’t have to do any of it alone. As a community, we’re here walking this seasonal arc together — breathing, practicing, wintering, and eventually, slowly turning toward the light again, from the inside out.