Just Staying Warm
An end-of-January dispatch from the deep cold. Staying warm, nourished, and present in a long winter. No reinvention. Just tending what’s here. This isn’t metaphorical winter.
It’s snowmageddon here in Pittsburgh.
It’s the end of the month.
I had a busy week teaching online. I am so glad I didn’t have to drive anywhere—not that I could have gotten out of the driveway!
And this is the coldest weather, sustained over the longest stretch of time, that I can remember living through. Not whining (not really), just observing.
This isn’t metaphorical winter.
This is real cold—deep cold, lingering cold—the kind that changes how you move through your day and how much energy even small things require.
Life didn’t pause because the temperature dropped. Bills are still due. Work still needs doing. People still need care. Bodies still need tending.
And here we are.
What This Is Not
This is not a New Year reset.
It’s not a resolution list.
It’s not a call to optimize winter or make something productive out of endurance.
I’m not interested in turning survival into a project. Hey, it’s nearly February anyway.
What Is Holding
Right now, a few things remain non-negotiable—not as goals, but as conditions for continuing:
Rest, even when it’s imperfect
Nourishing food, especially warm food
Movement, for circulation rather than achievement
Staying warm
Checking in on neighbors/friends/family
Paying attention to the life that is actually happening
These are not aspirations. They are how we stay tethered to ourselves when conditions are harsh.
P.S. I am baking a lot (more than I can eat). If you can get out of your house and you are in the neighborhood, feel free to stop over for tea and scones, muffins, Anzac biscuits… better text me first to make sure I am not in a Zoom meeting.
Life Is Now
I keep coming back to this simple truth:
Life is now.
Not after the weather breaks.
Not when things feel easier.
Not once we’ve caught up.
This season doesn’t need to justify itself by producing insight, growth, or a better version of us.
By presence, I mean paying attention to the life that is already happening. That can be enough.
I wrote more about this—about embodiment, healing, and what it means to live toward union rather than separation—in a recent essay for Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, “Who Is My Neighbor?”
You can read it here.
The piece reflects the same conviction I’m holding close right now: care for our bodies, attention to one another, and a willingness to remain present are not distractions from spiritual life. They are where it actually unfolds.
What I’m Reading (Slowly)
My reading life mirrors the pace of the season.
I’m returning to Amazing Grace by Kathleen Norris, a book that honors ordinary faithfulness—grace that shows up in repetition, doubt, and daily practice rather than certainty.
Alongside it, I’m reading The Correspondent by Virginia Evans, a novel shaped through letters, attentiveness, and human connection over time. It’s a reminder that meaning is often made in fragments—in what is written, received, unanswered, and slowly understood.
Neither book rushes toward resolution. That feels right.
A Small Practice (If You Want One)
This is not an assignment. Just an invitation.
Once today—or tomorrow—notice:
the warmest moment of your day
a cup of something hot
a room that feels safe
your feet on the floor
your breath returning to its own rhythm
You might silently name it:
“This is where I am.”
Nothing else is required.
Warming the Body, Returning to the Moment
Sit or stand comfortably.
Let your shoulders soften.
Inhale slowly through your nose.
Exhale through the mouth.
Rub your hands together until you feel warmth.
Place them somewhere that needs it—your chest, belly, or neck.
Pause.
Breathe.
Silently say: Life is now.
If nothing else this week, may we stay warm.
Life is now.
— Joanne
As a PTS Seminarian enrolled in Spiritual Formation, this post was so timely and hugely beneficial. Thank you!
Life is now: a good theme for the day, the month, the year...for always.
I recently read The Correspondent too.