A Frozen Moment in Time.

January 2nd, 2025.

A day like no other, though it began unassumingly.

The night before had been restless. My body ached for sleep, which seemed just out of reach until the early hours when exhaustion finally took me.

Morning came slowly. Gareth, my partner and my personal “weatherman,” kissed me goodbye as I emerged from the haze of sleep. My eyes were heavy and bleary, and I was battling what I affectionately call “cod eye.”

The soft flicker of a candle on my bedside table became my anchor. Its warm glow offsets the chill of the room.

I cranked up the heated blanket and allowed myself a few stolen moments of indulgent stillness.

Outside, the blackout curtains cloaked the dawn in secrecy, but Gareth had already forewarned me: It would be one of those mornings, cold, crisp, bright, and frosty.

My heart rate quickened at the thought. It’s my favourite kind of weather, the kind that transports me back to childhood wonder, where every icy day felt like a gift, every snowy hour like magic.

It just never lasted long enough.

I’ve always felt a kinship with winter. Born in 1962, the coldest winter on record, perhaps the frost is in my bones, my spirit.

With resolve, I took a deep breath, swung my legs out of bed, and planted them firmly on the cool wooden floor. The sensation jolted me awake. Layer upon layer of clothing followed: thick socks, a weighted vest, and my warmest jacket. My ritual armour for the day.

I stepped outside into a morning that seemed tailor-made for me. The sunrise painted the sky with strokes of gold and blush, and the icy air filled my lungs like a tonic. My two-mile walk was brisk, invigorating, and laced with anticipation (and some good old-fashioned dread!)., for I knew what awaited me—an icy plunge!

Back home, the house was silent, waiting. I stripped off and tiptoed into the garden, where my bath, a still pool of frosty water, lay.

The lid was sheathed in ice, which I cracked open with a deliberate sense of ceremony. One foot in, then the other, sharp, electric cold that took my breath away. With a final deep inhale, I sank, the freezing water enveloping me, my body submerged to the neck.

Time slowed. The first rays of sunlight crept above the trees, spilling golden light over the frost-laden garden. I separated my mind from my body and focused on the stillness.

My breath became my guide, my tether. For what felt like an eternity but was likely only three minutes, I existed in a realm of quiet power, surrendering completely (well, sort of) to the present moment.

When I emerged, the world felt sharper and brighter. My skin tingled with life as I dried off and layered up once more warm socks and my dressing gown soaking in the heat of a red-hot radiator.

Back in the kitchen, the rich aroma of coffee brewing on the stove filled the air, a comforting contrast to the chill outside. I carried my steaming mug to the lounge, wrapping myself in a soft blanket. The sunlight had found its way in, spilling golden light across the room, bathing me in its gentle warmth.

And there it was. The moment.

My first feeling was love; it filled me.

For two or three minutes, peace and contentment descended upon me like a soft, invisible veil. I felt an exquisite stillness, a joy so profound it moved and nourished my soul. Everything- my worries, my restless night, the noise of the world all just slipped away.

In that fleeting moment, there was nothing but pure, unfiltered perfection. A deep love for life and the simplest of joys filled me to the brim. I sat there, wrapped in my best B&M fleece, sipping my coffee, bathed in sunlight, and I thought:

This.

This is what it means to be alive.

All the money and the riches in the world couldn't ever match that experience.

I was complete.