Freeze the Day: An Ode to Winter
Instead of winding down in winter, how might we fuel up?
“Here is another truth about wintering: you’ll find wisdom in your winter, and once it’s over, it’s your responsibility to pass it on. And in return, it’s our responsibility to listen to those who have wintered before us. It’s an exchange of gifts in which nobody loses out. Katherine May, Wintering
Today marks the shortest day of the year, and from here on out, there will be more light in our days. But while the season is marked with some darkness, there is already all kinds of light. The pavement sparkles, trees are lit, fires blaze.
Winter is often seen as a period of withdrawal, a natural pause in life’s rhythms, sleepy. Yet this season also holds incredible potential for awakening. The quiet, reflective atmosphere of winter invites us to take stock of our lives, to assess what serves us and what doesn’t, and to shed old habits—much like trees shed their leaves—so that we can grow stronger roots.
No resolutions or vision boards need to remind me to reset. Winter reminds me.
In this way, wintering becomes an active process. If we think of it simply as a season, as a time to go under cover, we are retreating. But if winter becomes a plunge, it’s our choosing a reset to bring focus and awaken. That’s us being deliberate.
And honestly, I do not need anyone to tell me to rest or nap. Sleep happens.
Instead of retreating into inertia, I want to use this season as an opportunity to engage more deeply. It’s a chance to wake up to needs, values, and aspirations, and to reset our trajectory with purpose.
The Big Idea
Here is an alternative to wintering…with visuals.
The practice, rooted in traditions from Scandinavian saunas to Japanese Misogi rituals, has gained modern traction for its myriad benefits, from reducing inflammation to boosting mood through endorphin release.
But beyond the physiological perks, the cold plunge is a powerful metaphor for stepping out of life’s rush and into presence.
And it works for me.
When I enter icy water, my body reacts immediately. The cold forces me into the present moment, stripping away distractions and demanding complete focus. In those seconds, breath becomes an anchor. It’s a sharp, cleansing pause that disrupts the constant buzz of life’s demands.
I love it.
If wintering is the act of withdrawing from the world to focus on one’s inner world; cold plunging is the closest we can get to a visceral awakening, a chosen jolt that connects us to the raw edge of existence, reminding us of our resilience.
Cold plunging reminds me that I am alive.1
Making Big Ideas Usable
So how can this be put into practice?