creativity

Why We Need Chill Hours (According to an Apple Tree, a Squirrel, and a Bear)

Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann on Unsplash

We feel guilty for being tired in January. But for apple trees, squirrels, and bears doing nothing is the most productive thing they do all year.

I grew up on an apple farm in New York State’s Hudson Valley.

Because of that, my relationship with winter is a little different than most. To the casual observer, an apple orchard in January looks unproductive. The branches are bare, the ground is frozen, and it appears that nothing is happening.

But if you ask a farmer, they’ll tell you January is one of the most critical months of the year. It’s the month that decides the harvest.

We have a tendency in our culture to treat rest as a sign of weakness—or at best, a reward you get only after you’ve burned out. But nature has a different rulebook. She doesn’t ask herself to earn her rest. In the wild, winter isn’t a pause button; it’s an active biological process of repair.

If you’re feeling slow, foggy, or tired this week, I have good news: there’s nothing wrong with you. In fact, you’re doing everything right according to nature. You are just wintering.

Here are three examples of how nature uses the cold to build the future—and how we can adopt a few pages of her playbook.

1. The Apple Tree: Counting the Cold

On the farm, nature and farmers alike live by a concept called “Chill Hours.”

We tend to think trees just “shut off” when the temperature drops. In reality, they’re actively counting. Apple trees have a strict biological requirement to endure a specific number of hours (usually 800 to 1,000) between 32° and 45°F (0° and 7°C.)

If they don’t get those hours—if the winter is too warm or too short—the hormone that suppresses blooming won’t break down. They literally cannot produce fruit in the spring unless they have rested enough in the winter.

The lesson? The productivity of the harvest is biologically impossible without the stillness of the winter. You aren’t losing time by resting; you’re banking your Chill Hours for when the light and warmth of spring return.

2. The Arctic Ground Squirrel: Renovating the Brain

If you’ve felt a bit of “brain fog” lately, you’re in good company.

When the Arctic Ground Squirrel hibernates, their body temperature drops below freezing, and they essentially disconnects their neural pathways. Their brain synapses wither and retract—like pruning a tree—to save energy.

This sounds destructive, but it’s actually a renovation. Research shows that when they wake up, their brains undergo a massive “regrowth” phase. They regenerate those connections stronger and more efficient than before, similar to how muscle fibers when broken down by exercise knit themselves back together when we rest to become stronger.

The brain fog isn’t a failure; it’s a remodel. Sometimes the brain needs to disconnect to clear the clutter and build new pathways for the year ahead.

3. The Black Bear: The Miracle Healers

Finally, there’s the bear. We know they enter a deep sleep in the winter, but what happens while they sleep is the real miracle.

Research from the University of Minnesota found a stunning capability in hibernating black bears: they are super-healers. If a bear goes into hibernation with a wound, the bear will heal faster and with less scarring during their dormant state than they would during the active summer months.

Even with a metabolism running at a fraction of normal speed, their immune system shifts into a specialized repair mode.

It’s a powerful reminder: We heal best when we rest.

A Permission Slip for January

If nature—in all her wisdom and efficiency—requires a season of dormancy to prepare for fruit, rewire the brain, and heal wounds, why do we think we are exempt? Why do we insist on pushing through when what we really need is the sleep and rest that will help us be better versions of ourselves in the long-run? Sleep and rest are powerful tools. Use them. Appreciate them. Luxuriate in them. Your future self will thank you.

So, if you’re struggling to get into high gear this winter, stop. Take a nap. Read a book. Laugh with friends. Eat nourishing food. Breathe. Let the ground freeze knowing you’re giving yourself your necessary Chill Hours. Spring will be here soon enough. Don’t rush it. Rest.

creativity

The inspiring resilience of water bears

Tardigrades in space (and everywhere on Earth!) https://youtu.be/TV7qAsp6x3w

Water bears look like works of science fiction. The microscopic, 8-legged 1,300 species of water bears (tardigrades) are alive and well. Their remarkable abilities to survive and thrive in harsh conditions make them seem even more improbable. They’re one of the most resilient lifeforms that’s ever lived.

When I had 6 weeks of daily radiation to treat cancer, I thought a lot about the perseverance of water bears. The technicians would position me on the table, then close the heavy door behind them as they left the room to protect themselves from the radiation. Click. Through a small window, they’d watched me, alone, unmoving, exposed on a table with no protection from the radiation blasting my body. I imagined myself as a tardigrade, opening to the light and radiation, absorbing it to kill any microscopic cancer cells floating around my body. I would think of Rumi’s quote, “The wound is the place where the light enters you.

By the end of week six, I had a painful burn the size of a baseball in the middle of my chest. “What would a tardigrade do with a burn like this?”, I wondered. They’d tend to what needed tending. So, that’s what I did. I changed dressings and applied the medication twice a day. I meditated on my wound, imagining it closing and healing. It was painful and frightening to have a wound like that, but like so much along my cancer journey, it passed. To my amazement and my doctors’, it healed in 2 weeks. Today it’s only a few freckles and the tattoo that marks the focus of the radiation beam, the place where the light entered me and healed me.

My healing is nothing compared to tardigrades. I bow in deep humility to them. Devastating drought? A sprinkle of water revives them from completely dried out to fully functioning. Deep freeze of outer space? They thaw and don’t know they’ve been away from Earth. Crushing pressure? They flatten and bounce back. Blast of radiation 1,400 times stronger than what would kill humans? They repair their shattered DNA and go about their day.

Tardigrades instill awe, wonder, and confusion in scientists. How do they survive everywhere under such extremes? Why have they evolved to do this?

They’re ubiquitous, found from the top of the Himalayas to Antarctic depths, at temperatures from -328°F (-200°C) to 304°F (151°C). We know they repair damaged DNA rapidly and completely. It’s not that they aren’t impacted by their environment. They take the destruction around them, then they pick up the pieces, build back, and carry on.

As we consider how to create a world resilient to climate change impacts, again I’m thinking of tardigrades. How can we withstand hardship, quickly and completely fixing what breaks? How can we endure? Nature-based solutions to our most dire challenges are found all around us if only we look, listen, and seek to understand. In a world where we constantly navigate change and manage difficulty, I want to be a tardigrade — repairing myself, my ecosystem, and all beings with whom I share it.

creativity

Another hopeful cancer milestone

Today I graduated from 6 month exams with my breast surgeon to 1 year exams. Being 2 years cancer-free is a huge milestone because the risk of recurrence drops significantly.

I’m so grateful to my medical team at NYU Langone Health, friends, and family who helped me restore my health. Celebrating today and every day.

If you or someone you love is facing cancer, please know there are millions of us out here with stories of triumph, resilience, and renewal. We may get knocked down but we can rise stronger, braver, wiser, and healthier with more love and more compassion than ever.

This is my story and it can be yours, too. Eyes up. Keep going.

creativity

A Year of Yes: Social justice for our students

This week I’m speaking at a social justice event at a high school in New York. The basis of my talk is about mental health and healing. My main points are:

-We can say our weak things in a strong voice.

-The function of freedom is to free others by telling our story.

-We need to show up for others the way we want them to show up for us.

What do you think?

creativity

A Year of Yes: Getting personal about time on a podcast about change

Yesterday, I did an interview for a podcast called How Humans Change. I spoke with hosts Josh Chambers and Leiv Parton about change, transformation, death, trauma, writing, mental health, choices, poverty, technology, career, the passage of time, therapy, science, dinosaurs, biomimicry, super powers, and how healing, while difficult, is the best motivator of all. It’s my most personal interview to-date.

Some people who hear it will be surprised, and others will have answers to some long outstanding questions that I have rarely discussed in the past. I’m making a more concerted effort to address these topics thoughtfully, authentically, and often.

I always love meeting members of my tribe and these guys are definitely part of it. Thank you to my amazing friend and mentor, John Bucher, for connecting me to them. I’ll share the episode link when it’s live. Until then, give their first season a listen by clicking here.

creativity

In the pause: Reflections on loss, healing, and reinvention after losing my father 25 years ago today

25 years ago today, my father died. There are days in our lives that define us, and for me, that was the day, though not for the obvious reasons. That day, I walked out of a room that was dark and cluttered and confusing, and into another room that was empty. It remained empty for a long time.

There is a major reckoning that takes place when someone who made you leaves this planet, regardless of what your relationship was with that person. For me, that reckoning took two decades; longer than the time my father and I knew each other.

It only resolved after two decades because of my work with Brian. And it was work. It was not fun or inspiring work; it was, however, necessary. I did what I had to do to free myself. That was my only goal.

My father left this world without the two of us knowing or understanding each other. For a long time, I thought that was a sad fact. Now I realize how vital it was to my development; the day he died, I started to become who I am now. It was the day I began to build something from nothing. It is one of the two days I think of as life days, days when everything in my life shifted and there was no way to shift back.

I tell you this story not for sympathy or even empathy. I am long past the stage of needing or wanting either. I have adjusted, healed, and moved on. My point is that you may be in the midst of something difficult now, something that feels like it may break you, something that makes you feel like you may never be whole or at peace. You are in that empty room I walked into 25 years ago today. The space can feel overwhelming. The emptiness can feel like a void. It’s not, I promise you. It’s a canvas, a blank page, a stage. You will build something there, something that is totally of your own design. And there is no rush. You do what’s right for you, when it’s right for you. I look forward to seeing your masterpiece. Happy December 1st. I love you.

creativity

In the pause: Healing takes time

Friends, I have had a rough week. One of the roughest I’ve ever had. Truly. I have been struggling mightily on so many fronts that at one point, I could feel the walls closing in on me. There were a lot of triggering events and I felt like I was descending back down into the scary tunnel of my PTSD from many years ago. I couldn’t sleep or eat for almost 3 days. Eventually, somewhere deep down in the depths of my soul, something began to rise through all the sadness and fear and noise. It was my power. It was my voice.

Your power and your voice are always there. Always. I know it can be difficult to hear them. I know that pain stands up and demands to be recognized. And I know that healing takes time. But you will heal. Be kind to yourself. Be on your own side. Be your own best advocate. Be fierce. Know your truth, and don’t let anyone else tell you who you are. You know you. You be you. Because you are so much more than enough. It takes time to know that, too. Take the time. It’s worth it.

creativity

In the pause: Healing is made of magic and time

“Don’t confuse a season for a lifetime. Even your trials have an expiration date.” ~Brittney Moses

Maybe you’re going through something right now that feels sad or painful or disappointing. When we go through tough times, it’s almost impossible to imagine an end to them. But it’ll get better. And you’ll get better. It won’t be overnight. It’ll happen little by little, day by day. You’ll stand a little taller. Smile a little wider. Shine a little brighter. Healing of any kind is one part magic and two parts time. Believe in the power of both.

 

creativity

Wonder: Music saves us

“It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.” ~Frederick Douglass

I heard this quote over the weekend during a tear-jerking story by journalist Steve Hartman. This story is about a 78-year-old partially paralyzed pianist, Norman Malone, who learned to play with only his left hand after his father almost bludgeoned him and his brothers to death with a hammer. I sobbed. The light and beauty in this man is present in his voice, his eyes, and his music. Even that horrid night couldn’t take music from him. He grew up to become a choral instructor so he could share his love of music with children. After all, it saved him, so of course it can save others.

Recently, finally, he had the opportunity to give his first public performance and it was stunning. And on that stage, through that stream of tears, he couldn’t find the words to express what that performance and what music means to him. He kept it to himself. And I couldn’t help but see that somewhere in him that sweet boy who survived such brutality lives on. And shines on, 70 years later.

Frederick Douglass was absolutely right. It is so much easier to build children up than to repair adults from the trauma of life. The arts, music, dance, writing, and all creative outlets help us hang on to our very essence and give us the opportunity to share it with others. I am heart-broken by Norman’s story, and I am also immensely inspired by it. Art saves. Art heals. Art perseveres.

 

creativity

This just in: Time is our best and deepest healer

Time is our best healer
Time is our best healer

On Thursday night I pulled my quadricep playing soccer. I’ll be limping around for the next little while it heals. There’s not much I can do for a pulled muscle except rest it so I’m spending most of this cold rainy weekend inside reading, writing, playing piano, listening to music and podcasts, and working on my next paper collage. Time and creativity make a magical healing duo.