The Longest Month

We are deep into the darkest stretch of the year.

Post-Christmas has a way of flattening time. The nights feel long. January can feel endless. But even now, something has already shifted. The days are slowly lengthening. The earth is turning back toward the light, whether we notice it or not.

That doesn’t mean things suddenly feel easier. It just means movement is happening, even when it’s imperceptible.

Sometimes that’s all there is to do, continue, hold position, keep moving through what you’re in until the shape of it changes. Night gives way to morning. Not dramatically. Not all at once. But reliably.

Earlier this week, someone reached out from the US after coming across Swim Through Darkness. They described being in a very difficult place and said the campaign had offered a small point of orientation, a reminder that movement through dark stretches is possible without pretending they aren’t dark.

That matters.

It’s a quiet confirmation that this work doesn’t need to be loud to be useful.

This week’s swim

This was the second swim in the new weekly format.

Conditions were more chaotic than anything in December. A small but active surf created fast-forming currents that disrupted the prevailing flow. I had to adjust direction repeatedly in the break to hold the line and complete the distance.

The night itself was clear and star-filled, but bitterly cold. The kind of cold that demands attention and precision rather than force. If you’ve been following along on Instagram Stories, you’ll have seen just how sharp it was.

The format has changed.The work hasn’t.

*Swim Through Darkness documents a long-established personal practice carried out with preparation, experience, and local knowledge.

It is not an invitation or instruction to enter water, at night or otherwise.

If you are struggling or feeling unsafe, please seek support from trusted people or local services.*