Somewhere towards the end of May this year I noticed how I had become incapable of feeling joy or excitement for a passion project which previously provided much inspiration. Where did my energy for this new idea go? Had I suddenly lost all my ambition, I wondered.
My idea, something I had been thinking of for quite a while, disappeared as one of Cape Town’s most intense winters arrived. Suddenly, we had whole weeks of barely seeing the sun. Late sunrises and early sunsets. And all-day fires burning to keep us warm in houses not built for this cold.
Dopamine levels decrease in periods of limited sunlight. Seasonal affective disorder can set in. This phenomenon is well-documented in the northern hemisphere. This I know. My creativity and energy for the big new idea that had disappeared made me read about creativity following seasonal cycles.
There is a growing but still small body of evidence on circadian rhythms, light, and creativity. People working in analytical spaces, places of the mind, will often power through low-energy cycles, unwilling to accept nature’s impact.
Increasingly, some of the world’s most well-known medical podcasters are discussing the importance of early morning sunlight exposure for optimising your circadian rhythm for the rest of the day. Messages on the importance of light for our biological rhythms are everywhere. Seasonal variation in the human circadian rhythm and its impact on creativity is written about less.
In a 2018 journal article published in the journal Nature and Science of Sleep, Nyambura Shawa (a local scientist from the University of Cape Town) and colleagues wrote about how individual chronotypes are affected by seasonal change. Chronotypes are individual preferences (determined by a multitude of factors, including genes) for the timing of daily activities. They write that “chronotype is modified by seasonal change, most likely due to changes in the light environment”. So, someone who used to be a morning lark may become a night owl now (unlikely, but something mid-way may happen). Some people may be more affected since “interindividual differences in photoperiod responsiveness mean that some people are more affected than others”.
In another study by Eunice Jun and colleagues, the impact of chronotype on analytic and creative tasks is explored. They find that physiological synchrony (aligned chronotypes in the group) positively predicts group satisfaction with work and outputs produced. Yes, they don’t draw a direct link between light and creativity but make it clear that chronotype dynamics (and sensitivity to light) will affect the productivity and creativity of any outputs produced in a team structure.
In the long northern hemisphere winters, before electric light and central heating, winters were periods of introspection and storytelling. In some countries, storytelling festivals are held in winter. Indigenous communities make time to embed themselves in their rich narrative histories.
We are seeing the signs of spring all around us in South Africa. Some would even venture to say summer has appeared. My lemon tree has developed and shed blooms. I’m already awaiting baby lemons. An assortment of weeds is racing towards the light through the cracks in my paving. It is the season when, as my father recently said at the lunch table, even a potato will sprout in the dark of a vegetable drawer. One of my potatoes has indeed sprouted. After watching it grow towards the light for a few weeks on my windowsill, I finally planted it a few weeks ago and it is flourishing.
The change from winter to spring is a reminder that growth and change can happen even in the darkest, coldest places. We grow despite the cold, or maybe perhaps even because of it. Our energy returns when it becomes lighter.
Sometimes, stories need to be told in front of fireplaces, and our bodies (and minds) need to rest. And then, suddenly, we find our energy for new ideas and passion for old, long-forgotten projects returning. Just as spring, and then summer, arrives.
