Curiosity Saves the SAD Cat
On the long march to Spring and how yoga can help
Sunshine returns in theory before it returns in spirit. While the gradual arrival of spring brings scattered beams and sudden warmth, it is readily paired with a sense of stagnation as rain so often returns. Particularly within urban environments, February and March can feel like a gruelling hike towards brighter days, offset only by occasional blue skies or a brave beer garden jaunt. Without sight of early snowdrops or daffodils to signal a thaw, we’re disconnected from the steady surge of things; same pavement, same rain. It’s simply the quiet grey hangover of a gluttonously joyful Yuletide.
Mentally, I categorise this as a "nothing" period. Even when punctuated by calendar-worthy events, January to April has a liminal feeling - a sensation that I’m stuck in the waiting room of life, things on hold until the sun comes out. Outdoorsy or not, we all know the frustration, as nature cyclically offers a false springtime start only to retreat into rain.
Given the wider state of the world in March 2026, there's something to be said for this perpetual gloom being worsened by political events. With so many communities experiencing oppression and the very notion of community fraying, it's no wonder the groundhog day of winter feels like a particularly deep crab bucket this year. Look forward? Believe in change? No chance. But that despair, however rational a response, is not somewhere we can afford to stay. The crab bucket is real, but I endeavour to climb regardless.
Yoga, helpfully, has some answers. During meditation and asana, we explore acceptance and non-attachment: the recognition that we cannot force things to be other than they are, and the peace that comes not from changing our circumstances but from changing our relationship to them. Physical pain or external distractions become opportunities to assess our approach to discomfort. A grim March is, in its own way, a perfect teacher. We can't hurry the season, but we can choose where to place our attention. Through meditation we also learn to observe things with curiosity. We notice the breath or the body, becoming aware of aspects we may otherwise ignore.
Carrying this awareness off the mat is a transformative habit, because noticing - really noticing - is the engine of joy. Once you see it, celebrations are everywhere, no matter how small. St Patrick's Day, Valentine’s Day, Pancake Day, International Beaver Day- what a pleasure that humans created so much to look forward to. Non-attachment doesn't mean indifference. Instead it encourages us to release the hold on how we wish things were, freeing us up to find something worth celebrating in the lot we’ve actually got. This mentality takes repetition, and some days it's hard work, but humans are hardwired to be hopeful. If we make that hope a habit, endless grey can start to glitter.
So foster celebration. New shoes? Celebrate them! Particularly orange egg yolk? Get celebrating! See a best friend, a big bird, a bud bursting into bloom? Celebrate, celebrate, celebrate. Some of the most joyous people in communities across the world are those who've learnt not to reserve enthusiasm for certain events, like rationed cheese, but rather to dole it out in big chunks, safe in the knowledge that there's always more where that came from. An endless supply of cheese (just go with it).
I don't mean to belittle sadnesses: cloudy days exist, and the wonderful complexity of the human mind means we can expect a reasonable amount of anxiety, pain and frustration. No rainbows without rain, etc etc. But if yoga teaches us anything, it's that the quality of our experience is shaped less by what's in front of us than by how we're looking at it. A curious eye and a relaxed grip - on the mat or off it - is enough to turn an endless grey season into something worth leaving the house for. The march goes on, but we might as well dance through it.