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January - The Invitation to Slow Down

  • Writer: Chrissie Mowbray
    Chrissie Mowbray
  • 11 minutes ago
  • 4 min read
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Rethinking January from a place of rest, rather than resistance.


For so many of us, the turn of the year arrives like a call to arms with ambitious resolutions and lofty goals, “New Year, New Me” mantras swirl around us as if January’s cold clarity means we must sprint into reinvention. But what if we approached this season differently — with softness rather than speed? What if we moved to a place of listening rather than performance?

What if what our bodies, hearts and nervous systems really need right now is not an overhaul, but permission to slow right down?

This is the heart of wintering — not as a trendy buzzword, but as a ancient way of deeply being.


Where “Wintering” Comes From

The idea of wintering has its roots in the natural world: the world of trees dropping leaves, fields lying fallow and animals conserving energy in the stillness of winter. It’s a term Katherine May reframes beautifully in her book Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times — where winter becomes a metaphor for life’s quieter, sometimes darker, but deeply regenerative seasons. She describes it as a time when life feels paused, challenging, or slow — and yet full of potential beneath the surface. Kinfolk+1

In nature, winter isn’t failure. It’s rest with purpose. A season of quiet preparation for what comes next.


Why Wintering is not a 'Cop Out'

In our culture, needing to rest is often viewed as a luxury, or worse, a failure — especially when the calendar flips to a new year and the world whispers that more is better. But wintering asks a different question: What if rest is not the opposite of productivity, but its foundation?

Just as plants enter dormancy and animals slow their rhythms in winter, our own bodies and minds can ask for less doing and more listening. In winter, daylight has waned; melatonin and circadian cues gently invite our energy to shift inward. This is not laziness — it is biology. For many, pressing on against this natural rhythm only intensifies exhaustion or disconnect. The Conscious Parent Company

To winter is to honour our innate wisdom.


Wintering Over “New Year, New Me”

January invites reflection — but is all-too-often hijacked by ambition:

  • "Lose weight.”

  • "Be productive from day one.”

  • “Transform overnight.”

Wintering invites us to ask instead:

  • What does my body want today?

  • Where do I feel tightness, tiredness, or longing?

  • What do I need to nourish me — not punish me?

Rather than sprinting toward goals we think we “should” achieve, wintering gives us space to slow, center, and reconnect with what truly matters.


What Wintering Looks Like in Practice

Wintering is not about doing nothing — it is about doing less, and listening more. It might look like:

Rest without guilt -Sleeping a little longer. Saying no to plans. Letting your calendar breathe.

Gentle reflection - Journaling, not to plan your year, but to understand your inner landscape.

Body listening - Noticing what your body needs — slower movement, warmth, quiet — and responding with kindness.

Cozy rhythms Longer breakfasts, slow walks in crisp air, soft light, simple meals, presence over performance.

This is not avoidance. This is attunement.


Wintering as Resilience

At Resilient Practice, we often talk about resilience not as grit, but as conscious Self-care — the ability to tune into what is needed in any situation, and to respond with intention. Wintering teaches us that resilience is not about powering through the cold; it is about finding nourishment in the quiet.

In winter, nothing grows above ground — but everything grows below it. Roots deepen. Strength consolidates. Renewal begins in silence.

So this January?

Let go of resistance to the season. Meet it.

Let wintering be your guide — not as an excuse to disengage, but as an invitation to rest with purpose, so that when Spring comes (as it always does), you rise renewed, not depleted.


A Tool for Wintering

Take a few quiet moments with these questions — perhaps with a warm drink, a blanket, or a pause in your day. There is no right way to do this. You do not need to write full answers. Simply notice what arises.


1. Becoming Present

Before reflecting, take a slow breath in…and an restorative breath out.

Let your shoulders soften.

Ask yourself gently:

  • How does my body feel right now?

  • Where do I notice warmth, heaviness, tightness, or ease?

Not adjusting. Just noticing.


2. Honouring Your Winter

Wintering looks different for everyone.

You might feel called to reflect on:

  • Where in my life do I feel in need of tending?

  • What has this past year asked of me — emotionally, physically, relationally?

  • If this season had a message for me, what might it be whispering rather than shouting?

Remember: tiredness often signals wisdom, not weakness.


3. Releasing the “Shoulds”

January can bring a chorus of expectations.

Gently ask:

  • What goals or pressures feel heavy rather than nourishing right now?

  • Which expectations belong to me — and which might I be carrying for others?

  • What would it feel like to pause ambition, just for this season?

You are wise to rest before you are “ready”.


4. Listening to the Body

Our bodies often know before our minds catch up.

Consider:

  • What does my body ask for more of this winter? (Sleep, warmth, stillness, gentle movement, connection, solitude)

  • What does my body ask for less of?

  • How might I respond to these needs with kindness rather than discipline?

Small responses often offer the most profound healing.


5. A Winter Intention (Not a Resolution)

Instead of setting goals, you might choose a quality to carry through winter.

You could complete the sentence


This winter, I give myself permission to…

Or:

This winter, I practise listening to…


Let this intention be soft, flexible, and allowing over forcing.


Closing

When you’re ready, take another mindful breath.

Wintering reminds us that nothing is lost in rest. Much is gathered there.

There will be time for growth, action, and movement. For now, it is enough to be here — listening, resting, and trusting the season that is here.

 
 
 

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