Historically speaking, January and I have not been friends. Blame it on the cold, the post-holiday letdown, or the fact that January is about as far as a month can be from October (except for November & December, but they get a pass on account of holidays).

For the seven years I lived in Arizona, January and I had a respite from our adversarial relationship. In the southwest, that window of time is a sparkling paradise -- perfect for drinking spicy Mexican lattes and hiking desert mountains under crayon-blue skies dotted with hot air balloons. And also, you know, a nice break from the other months that will melt your face right off and not even feel sorry about it. 

It's possible that, since leaving that winter utopia, I've felt even more frigid towards the first month of the year. And January in a pandemic? I've been dreading it, hard. The cold and the gray, plus the isolation and anxiety, and the lack of things to look forward to... It felt like a lot this year. The attempted overthrow of the government didn't help, but at least I saw that one coming. 

I looked at my calendar this week and noted that January is ALMOST OVER! And yet... winter is not done, by a long shot. Neither is the pandemic. Or the escalating political discord that really piles on to the usual heaviness of the season. We've got miles to go yet, on all counts, and we all need some coping devices to get us through. I'm not telling anybody how to live their lives, but here are a few of the daily verbs that have been holding me up through this season:

• Cook. ​Maybe technically it's a chore. But something about the ritual, the act of nurture, and the full-sensory experience is wonderfully soothing. Not to mention a lot cheaper than ordering takeout (again). 
• Move. Ever since I "retired" as a dancer, I've been an intermittent gym-goer, at best. But in these lockdown days, I've tuned in to the recently-booming virtual fitness world. Now that I don't have to change clothes (because don't we all work in our stretchy pants these days?) and get in the car and actually go to somePLACE to get moving, I do it every day. And you guys... I hate to say it, but the annoying gym rats have been right all these years. It is a life changing thing to get daily physical activity into your life. My anxiety and stress levels are lower, my coping skills higher, my energy through the roof. You don't have to make it about losing weight and falling down the rabbit hole of toxic diet culture. For pushing back the winter darkness, physical activity is a 10/10 recommend, for those who are able. And when it's too gross out to go for a walk or run, it's nice to have indoor options. 
• Read. Early in the pandemic, I had zero bandwidth to sit down and read a book. Truth is, I still don't have much. But I make myself do it anyway. Maybe I get through a book once every three months instead of once every three weeks... but when I'm actually reading, many parts of my brain are happier. And it beats the hell out of doomsday scrolling before bedtime.  I've discovered the gifts of audiobooks in these months too. Someone else to tell you a story while you are accomplishing some menial task, or waiting in the car for something? Wonderful. (Will share another post soon featuring my favorite audiobooks!)
• Create. I'm the least crafty person in the world, but I write stuff. Maybe you can play an instrument, or knit things. Or build woodworking miracles in the garage. Or paint. Whatever your thing is, do that thing, at least for a few minutes a day. 
• Give. Deep down, we know January is not the problem. The whole world feels dark and heavy these days. Giving to causes (or even volunteering, if you can do so safely) that make the world the kind of place you want to live in-- this is a life-giving act of resistance. As a bonus, generosity is a spiritual discipline that benefits not just the recipient, but the giver. And finally, I recommend daily exercises in​
• LOWERED EXPECTATIONS. This one right here is key, fam. Really, let's bring our bars down lower. No, a little lower. A bit more... there it is. Whatever milestone, celebration, major life change, achievement or award you were hoping to cash in at the end of this stretch-- make like Elsa and Let It Go. You are doing enough to just show up for your life every day. Love your people, take deep breaths, help where you can, and when you find some joy in between things, then say hallelujah. 

Speaking of reading--my daughter has been reading The Long Winter, a book in the Little House/Laura Ingalls Wilder series. I never really got into those as a kid, other than little snippets here and there. But I'm familiar with the gist of this one: it's winter, it's cold, they have no food, everything is terrible, they almost die. The end. And get this-- my kid has read this before and is reading it again on purpose. For fun. 

I said "why in the world would you want to read that right now?? Isn't it so depressing?!" 
And do y'all know what this tiny thing said to me? She said, "Well, parts of it are sad. But it makes me feel happy because in the end... it's spring." 

Well. Let the child preach. 

Here in my end of Kentucky we got a beautiful big snow this week-- the kind that looks nice and is fun to play in but melts off the road quickly. I walked over to creek (crick) in my neighborhood just to stand there on the path in a quiet, wooded place for minute. The canopy of icy branches, almost cartoonishly magical, reminded me that winter does have its own kind of beauty some days, its own spiritual gifts, if we can be wise enough to witness. 

Meanwhile, the water running over the rocks of the creek bed sang its own song -- spring is coming. 

Seems like my kid and my creek have the same good news to share this week. Finish the book. Stay in this story, however sad and heavy it feels. In the end, it will be spring.  
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There are staples I buy every time I go to the store. They don't even have to go on the list, they're just part of life. Milk. Fruit. Cheese. Cereal. 

And bread. I always buy bread. 

But lately, I've noticed that when I put the groceries away, I go to put the bread in the pantry... and there is already a loaf of bread there. Sometimes half a loaf, sometimes a whole one. Interesting. 

As I tossed the new bread into the freezer (again) I took a minute to wonder what might be causing our carbs to pile up like this. Nobody is on a keto kick. 

And it occurred to me that during pandemic times, a few things have shifted. For one thing, there is no school. Which means there are no lunch boxes. Our mornings are not spent making sandwiches and cleaning up our lunch mess while we also put away the breakfast dishes. 

The other thing that has changed is The Children themselves. I do not know how this happened, but I have two tweens up in here all of a sudden. One is as tall as me, and the other is gaining fast. Since they were toddlers, they've been able to eat their collective weight in peanut butter sandwiches every week. And while their appetites grow along with them, it seems their tastes have changed. Given the fact that I have a full-time job and am not a damn maid, these grown ass children fix their own lunches now. Having no school and full access to the kitchen means that lunch is now mac cheese, frozen pizzas, quesadillas, or leftovers from dinner last night. In fact, my son commented the other day, "when we go back to school, I don't know what I'm going to take for lunch. I never really want sandwiches anymore." Aha. Bread mystery solved.

And yet, I keep buying bread. 

​I recognize the privilege inherent here- in buying something out of sheer habit whether we need it or not. Having more food in the house than we can eat in a week, having more than we need in general. So many are struggling right now. Diminished food security has been, by far, the biggest fall-out of the pandemic, with hunger affecting millions more people than the virus itself. I reckon with this imbalance by giving to causes and organizations that are working to feed people. Contributing to local needs as well as global development programs focused on food security and sustainability.

At a more micro level, this disparity makes me want to examine my habits. What else do I do on autopilot without mindfulness? What other habits have I picked up, or let go, during this weird time of lockdown? What do I have more (or too much) of? What could I make more room for if I stopped taking up unnecessary space with things I don't need? And I don't just mean in the pantry...

It makes me think about how I spend not just my money-- but my time, and myself. 

I buy more sweatpants and pajamas now; but spend a lot less on gas. I spend more time scrolling; but a lot less running around town for pointless errands. I see fewer people; but am so much more grateful for even the smallest of social interactions. I cook more and eat out less. I exercise more, but I also drink more. I miss the library and coffee shops, but I strangely don't miss so many other places where I used to spend my time. Interesting. 

Some of these evolutions are good and healthy. Some are not great. All of them are what they are. And all of them make me want to be more intentional about life in general when we go back to life as normal... whatever that means. 
This week, I won't buy bread. Maybe next week, I'll want toast for breakfast. Or I'll just forget and toss it in the cart again. Either way, my daily bread is now a daily call to mindfulness. And that, I will keep - with butter and jam. 

How about y'all? What habits have you picked up or laid down during all this craziness? How will it change your "normal" when this whole thing is over? 

​What do you "throw in the cart" without even thinking about it?
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​And what would you have more room for if you stopped?