Hibernation Season:

Post-Halloween Reflections

“I'm afraid we shall waste an awful lot of time."
"Don't worry," answered Snufkin, "we shall have wonderful dreams, and when we wake up it'll be spring.”
― Tove Jansson, Finn Family Moomintroll

Sunset on Halloween night

I was heartened last week to hear that a number of you share my feelings on Halloween. The turn to November has always felt to me like the start of a long crescendo from bad (Halloween) to good (Thanksgiving) to great (Chrismukkah and New Years). This year, I find myself internalizing seasonality more than I ever have; this particular turn from October to November, I’m considering joining the bears in hibernation. 

I did try to share my two-year-old daughter’s childlike wonder around Halloween. I succeeded for at least thirty minutes. But surrounded by lifelike blow-up T-Rexes and impolite middle schoolers dressed as Baby Shark at a crowded Halloween street festival, I mostly found myself wishing I could sink into the pavement. Meanwhile, my husband David chatted just as easily with close friends as with people we hardly knew. I started to wonder if my dislike of Halloween is less about my discomfort with gore and more about my discomfort with the unfamiliar.  

As a recent New York Times article observed, trick-or-treating is an embodied activity that involves interacting with real people out in the real world. That’s a rare thing these days—and a good one. But it also means interacting with strangers.

That’s part of why I like other holidays better. They involve close family and friends sitting around a table or in a living room. My comfort zone. Susan Cain writes in QUIET about how highly sensitive, introverted types struggle with small talk—especially when it isn’t preceded by deeper talk and connection.

Sometimes I am inspired to push outside my comfort zone, and other times I want to curl up into it. I think that’s okay. With book talks this summer and fall has come heartfelt sharing, but also a lot of small talk, and my battery is depleted. I think many of ours are. Because of the pandemic, these seasons have been more outward facing than they were for years.

So as I packed away my Halloween costume, I felt like packing myself away too. And I am giving myself permission to stretch into that feeling. Seasons may happen externally, but we can embrace them internally. And now feels like the time for heart, warmth, and meaning. For a hibernation of sorts.

That means more time curled up under blankets drinking hot water and dreaming up a new story. Trusting that a season of cozy dreaming serves a purpose. That spring is better for it.