Blue Skies, Grey Days, and the Energy We Carry

I’ve just returned from a weekend in Malaga, and there’s a small moment from the trip that I wanted to share...

For the two days we were there Saturday and Sunday, we were incredibly lucky with the weather. Blue skies, dry air, a cool breeze. It wasn’t sunbathing weather, and you still needed a coat, but there was light. And the difference that light made was immediate.

Our energy lifted. Our mood softened. Everything felt just a little easier.

As we walked around the city, I noticed again how much of life in Malaga happens outdoors. People gathering along the beach, sitting in parks, lingering at café tables that stretch out onto the street. There was a sense of ease and connection everywhere you looked. Even at eight o’clock on a Saturday night, the coffee shops were full not loud or rushed, just people sitting, talking, being together.

Whenever I travel, this is something I always pay attention to the lifestyle, the culture, the subtle ways people move through their days. And in Malaga, it felt like the environment itself encouraged presence. Encouraged connection.

Then Monday morning arrived.

We woke up to rain.

As we waited for our taxi to take us to the airport, I sat by the window and watched the street below. And it struck me how different everything looked. So many places were closed. Fewer people were out. Those who were moved quickly, shoulders hunched, rushing through the rain. The same city but a completely different energy.

And I found myself thinking about how rarely they experience this kind of weather there… and how normal it is for us at home.

In Ireland, this isn’t a once in a while rainy morning. This is something we live with multiple times a week. Grey skies. Damp air. Short days. Long stretches without much light. And while we’re used to it, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect us.

Our energy.

Our motivation.

Our mood.

We often don’t even notice how much it seeps in.

When we landed back in Dublin, there was a young girl sitting behind me on the plane about ten years old. She looked out the window and said,

“Oh… everything is so depressing here.”

I laughed out loud. Not because it wasn’t true, but because she could already feel it. She could already sense the shift. At ten years old, she could recognise the difference in atmosphere, in energy, in how a place feels.

And it made me think about how hard we can be on ourselves.

How quickly we label ourselves as unmotivated, lazy, flat, or negative. How often we think we should be doing more, feeling better, showing up brighter. But sometimes it’s not a mindset issue.

Sometimes it’s just biology meeting environment.

It’s dark. It’s dull. It’s wet. And that takes something from us.

Maybe instead of pushing ourselves harder, we need to meet ourselves with a bit more understanding. A bit more compassion. Maybe we need to stop expecting summer energy in winter conditions, internally as well as externally.

And while we can’t change the weather, we can become more intentional about how we live within it. Creating small pockets of warmth. Seeking connection when it would be easier to retreat. Letting ourselves slow down when the world feels heavy, instead of fighting against it.

Because the weather does play a role. It always has. And noticing that doesn’t make us weak, it makes us aware.

So maybe the question is this:

Where could you create a little more light, warmth, or ease even if the sky outside doesn’t cooperate?

Just something that stayed with me.

Megan.