Connecting to the Cold
Connecting to the Cold
A weekly series of writing prompts for finding connection and creativity during the month of February.
I have a lot of swimming-related photos on my phone. Scenes of early morning plunges, in all seasons, in all weather. One of my favorites is from last winter: a shot of my blue and white striped swimsuit.
The air temperature had been so cold that after I hung the swimsuit over the back of an outdoor chair, it froze it into a v-shape. A stretchy and pliable material frozen entirely solid.
We’re not in a habit of getting those kind of gelid temperatures where I live in western Washington. When it happens, for me it feel exotic and a bit thrilling. A taste of the unknown. Although now we’ve had two years in a row where winter has offered up the kind of frigid temperatures that freeze swimsuits and cover beach rocks in a sparkle of ice. This year’s version was followed by an unseasonably warm week. The alder branches now have green buds. All of which is, well, jarring.
The swimsuit photo in question was taken last February, during a retreat that I led with Freeflow Institute. The weather for those days felt perfectly timed for a retreat called “Pause,” devoted to taking a cue from winter and reimagining what a more cyclical relationship to creativity could be.
The cold became a catalyst for clarity—everything felt heightened, more clear. The comfort of a blazing woodstove after every brisk walk providing the warm indoor cocoon where ideas could marinate and be born. All to say, winter is excellent time for regenerating creativity.
Around lunchtime the other day I stepped outside. Temperature-wise it wasn’t a particularly cold day, but there was a light rain, making for a kind of damp cold that quickly settles into your body. I hadn’t put on a sweater before I stepped out, and my body immediately induced a shiver. “Ugh, it’s cold,” I said to myself aloud, you know, in case the trees were listening.
I pondered that response, the automated resistance to cold, even from a person who actually likes to be cold. My time in cold water has taught me one thing: you can sit with that discomfort. It’s not about conquering, it’s about being with it, moving through it.
With that in mind, instead of immediately going back inside to the warm and dry studio, I remained standing there. I took a few breaths, looked up at the trees, wished I had put my wool sweater on. Despite my initial resistance, the cold was in fact quite tolerable. Wet and humid yes, but I could stay there for a bit. It felt nice to get a little break from looking at the computer, to breathe in fresh air. I knew I could go back in and warm up.
In the Northern Hemisphere, where January and February usually boast the coldest temperatures, February probably counts as very few peoples’ favorite month. It doesn’t have the coziness of the festive season, or the sheen of the new year, and can often feel like just a bit of a slog.
Many even cite February as the worst month of all. You may remember the reporter from a few year’s back who went viral with his summary: “February is the worst month of the year. But it's an honest month. It's a month that doesn't hold up life any better than it really is.”
Which means that for a lot of us, the tendency in February might just be to hole up. To retreat. To bide our time until spring sunshine decides to show up.
But what if we took it as an invitation instead?
An invitation to step outside. To feel the wind on our cheeks. To turn our head to the rain. To investigate how the natural world is coping and moving through the season. To immerse ourselves in the cold (safely, of course) even for just a short moment. Not to break a record, or to prove something, or as a hack, but as a way of being. As a way of existing.
That’s what my friends at Freeflow Institute are doing this month, running a campaign called Connect to the Cold, a collective mission to connect—physically and creatively—to the cold season. They asked if I would partner with them to put together some weekly creative writing prompts for the month, and I’ll be sharing them here every Wednesday for the next few weeks.
I’m hoping that the cold, in whatever way you find it, can provide some creative inspiration and connection.
-Anna
CREATIVE PROMPT
How can we capture a snapshot, a moment, a feeling, a thought, an interaction?
So often with creative practice we’re focused on grand manifestations of creative work, but the simplicity of a regular practice to hone in on a small detail focuses our attention on what’s taking place in front of and around us.
This week for our prompt we’re taking inspiration from
. Chris has a beautiful ritual of writing a sentence a day, a practice that led to his book One Sentence Journal.Every month, Chris compiles these in his newsletter too. Here is one from last month that I find myself sitting with:
“2024_0114: A reminder that, without reciprocity, what do you have?”
As Ernest Hemingway is known for saying: “All you have to do is write one true sentence,” a guiding principle of
’s 5 Things prompt (which is also great for getting the creative juices flowing).One sentence a day. That’s the prompt for the coming week.
One moment of cold a day, one sentence a day.
As you step into the cold, what do you feel, what do you see, what do you hear?
What can you capture in a single sentence?
Try this practice every day this week. See what you find, and see what it builds to. See what it tells you about the world around you.
Please share what you come up with! If you want to share one of your sentences, email it to hello@creativefuelcollective.com, and I’ll compile some of them here next week.
SUPPORT FREEFLOW
Freeflow Institute is dedicated to helping people take their craft outside, providing opportunities for creative development, space, and access to wild places for writers, artists, and leaders of all backgrounds. The Freeflow Foundation was set up to ensure that Freeflow Institute programs are available to all, regardless of background or current economic means.
If you want to donate to help support the work that they’re doing, and help to get more people outside, please join me in doing so.
A percentage of paid subscriptions this month will be donated to Freeflow Foundation, so if you’ve been debating on becoming a paid subscriber, now’s the time.
Like what’s happening in this newsletter? You can support my work by becoming a paid subscriber, ordering something in my shop, attending one of my workshops or retreats, or buying one of my books.
High fives and notes of inspiration are also accepted, or you can share this newsletter with a friend.
It’s good to realize I can spend a few moments outside, cold in the morning, since I’m so far away from salt water. It’s a different kind of submersion, but a cold plunge nonetheless. Great idea!
I love this prompt. It feels simple but powerful. Thank you!