I’ve been paying close attention to my mood these past couple of days. There’s an idea that shows up often in Stoic philosophy, the belief that a person’s sense of steadiness or happiness should come from within and not depend on external conditions. I understand the wisdom in that, yet I still feel something very real in winter. I seem to need the sun in a way that feels almost physical. When it’s absent for too long, I slow down. My energy drops, my patience thins, and everything takes a little more effort. I start to feel less like myself and more like a version waiting quietly for something to return.
Yesterday made that especially clear. A deep freeze settled in, with biting wind chills that made it impractical to go outside for long. I stayed indoors all day, caring for my son, moving between meals and naps and small messes. By afternoon I felt irritable and low energy, making decisions more impulsively than usual and struggling to shake a dull heaviness. The world outside felt closed off, locked in grey and muted browns, and it affected me more than I expected.
Today was different. The clouds broke open and the sun poured down, and the temperature lifted just enough to feel gentle instead of harsh. I took a walk alone at dawn, then bundled my toddler into his oversized snowsuit later in the day and followed his slow, determined path down the driveway. He wanted to check the mail, ride in the sled, and sit on the John Deere tractor, stopping often and leading the way. I was content for our entire outing. The sunlight felt warm on my face, like a quiet relief after yesterday’s cold. My husband had joked earlier in the week that I get grumpy when I don’t “go for my walks”, half serious and half smiling, and standing there in the sun I knew he was right.
There’s a tendency to dismiss this kind of shift as weakness, as if responding to weather somehow undermines inner resilience. But humans are bodies as much as minds, shaped by light, temperature, and movement. In winter, especially in Ontario, days can pass under heavy cloud and deep cold, and it makes sense that our nervous systems respond. Sunlight affects hormones, sleep rhythms, and mood, and gentle movement outdoors offers cues of safety and ease. Noticing this isn’t an excuse or a failure of discipline. It’s information.
If today allows, you might step outside when the light looks a little brighter than usual, even for a few minutes. Notice how your body responds to the air, the temperature, and the sun if it’s there. Let the conditions be what they are, and let yourself be affected by them without judgment.
