Is Love Alive?
- Christine Laura
- 19 hours ago
- 4 min read
It's been all over social media this year, more than any other year I've noticed - the idea that January is not a time to power up and start new things, or at least, not a time to push and rush and achieve and diet and resolve to improve all the things we feel we must in Western culture. It's a time of rest and reflection - and for centuries, it was a time of lean survival for most people in Northern climates. We are privileged beyond measure to have the options and choices we do today.

There are lots of ways to take a different, gentler approach to this mid-winter time - leaning into reading, sleeping, artmaking, and cooking slow nourishing foods. Saying no to things that don't feel aligned. Spending time in nature and connecting with the body and its needs. One practice that I especially like is the choosing of a word (or phrase) to reflect intentions and hopes for the year ahead (I also like those who have suggested it is wiser to make intentions only for the next season - say three months - to allow for growth and change through the year).

With this practice in mind, even amidst the crazy whirlwind - so counter to the energy of the season - that I was in while moving and planning a major trip, the words that came to me in late December, and have been guiding my days (currently in Germany!) are: FERMENTING, and FORTIFYING. That they are both related to alcohol is purely coincidental, lol.
Letting things ferment means - similarly to composting - doing very little. Observing, and keeping things contained - but generally letting nature do its thing. For me, practically and emotionally, this has meant being present to my own thoughts and feelings, with some kind of symbolic container (aka. boundary) to hold it all. I'm practicing using kinder self-talk as one way of containing; journalling also helps immensely as it gets those thoughts and feelings out onto the page.
Fermenting also involves a fair bit of trust - that once a process is underway, you are going to be able to see it through, and handle whatever results (even if the experiment is a "failure"). Patience, obviously , also has a role to play - especially in wintertime, when movement is slower and results may be not forthcoming. This is the time of rest, before the seeds of spring are planted. Fermenting is a way of preparing the "soil" to be ready for the growth that is on its way.

The other word I've been leaning into this year is FORTIFY. So many ways to explore the metaphors in this word - from wine that is fortified by letting it simmer, slowly, so that it becomes reduced but more concentrated - to the fortifying of a structure (here in Europe, so many forts and castles to marvel at!) by building up its base, adding reinforcements, and checking in the quality of mortar between the stones or logs.
Fortifying is a more active place that fermenting, and as I let this transitional stage of life simmer away, trusting the process, I am also paying attention to those places and mental spaces that need reinforcement. Maybe a rotten log or a crumbled stone needs to be replaced by a stronger one. Maybe letting some light into a corner brings more balance overall to the structure. It's a time of deep sorting, reorganization, and intuition (as well as the aforementioned trust and patience).
The hope is that what results is stronger, and more clear, in the way that somethings concentrated brings a form of clarity. Whether that means new career goals, a renewed sense of home, or simply more presence and safety within myself, exactly where I am...well, time will tell. January is a month of deep process.
Slowing down can be hard for people - beyond the obvious reasons of needing to pay rent or a mortgage and look after children and animals - because it usually invites anything we have been pushing down (unconsciously or otherwise) to surface, wanting to be looked at and integrated. This could be old trauma, or more simply a task that we're avoiding. In my work as a therapist I encourage slowing down in everyday life (even if it's for just a few minutes at the beginning or end of each day) as a way to start making space for the unconscious material in need of attention and healing. This slowing down can be a wonderful gift to the soul, opening the possibility for conversation and understanding of your self on a deeper level.

Slowing down is also a big middle finger to capitalist culture that tells us our worth is tied up in our productivity. Even for creative folks who operate outside of many consumer norms - it can still feel so hard when nothing is created. I encourage you (and myself) to lean into this place of "nothing" and find perhaps a new level of compassion and care for your self. This permission to rest and not be "productive" is so important for the soul, I believe - and for our bodies as well. I love the work of Tricia Hersey at The Nap Ministry on this important topic.
With Imbolc soon approaching (my favourite of the Celtic holidays), I am taking this time to tend my inner fire. Rest, self-care and kindness, intention with the foods and drink I take in, and a gentle blowing on the embers of joy, hope and creativity in a time (and world) that is harsh, overwhelming, and unjust for so many. Let the embers glow. Let love live.
And with that, some lyrics from a classic song that I love (all year round):
I still believe in summer days
The seasons always change
And life will find a way
I'll be your harvester of light
And send it out tonight
So we can start again
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Ingrid Michaelson, from "Winter Song"






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