NAVIGATING A COMPLICATED DECEMBER

Three ways to simplify, tend to your spirit in troubled times, and lower expectations in this overfull and complicated month

Here we are, friends. It’s December.

Not just December but a third of the way through December. Former versions of me would have been in complete panic mode that it’s Dec. 12 and I haven’t come close to tending to all my Christmas lists and holiday preparations.

I’m just not going there this year. I just can’t.

December, chockfull of personal and societal expectations, already can make for a complicated month. When you add major world crises on top of it, well, some of us just want to crawl back under the covers and hide.

So today, as you open this note and sip your coffee or tea, take a deep breath with me as I share three gentle nudges toward simplifying your approach and tending to yourself this December. Hopefully, it will help keep us a bit more centered and less stressed as together we navigate this complicated month.

1. Take time for yourself in the morning before you jump into the day. I don't have small children anymore but when I did, I got up 30 minutes before them to be able to wake up in the quiet before the day’s duties came crashing in. Even setting aside just 10 minutes for yourself to notice it’s a fresh new day and open yourself to the comfort of the Divine will anchor you as you start your day. Light a candle and sit quietly in the dark. Let yourself be held. It’s a painful time in the world juxtaposed against a season of magic and wonder. Tending to your spirit is truly non-negotiable as we seek to embody love in a traumatized world.

2. Simplify your gift-giving. I love to give gifts annnnnd I used to get anxious around Dec. 20th that I somehow didn’t have enough gifts under the tree or the right gifts to make Christmas magic for my family. (Yes, I’ve done some work to unpack that one. ) Santa’s arrival with lots of gifts is for the little children. And yes, of course, we all need magic and wonder. You can bring a splash of magic to your grown children’s experience without feeding that temptation to buy more -more- more or overspend. (There are articles and entire books written on this topic.) Magic comes in moments of connection more than through things. Also, consider making donations to organizations working for peace and justice as gifts.

3. Do not let the New Year’s Hype that you haven’t accomplished enough this year creep in. Because you know what happens. We get through Christmas or Hannukah and we lift our heads and realize it’s the end of the year and the list of all we thought we would accomplish comes to haunt us like ghosts of dashed hopes past. My suggestion? Make a different list. One of my favorite ways to practice gratitude and grow my appreciation throughout December is to create a 100 Things List of memorable moments from the past year. Often the little moments that find their way into my list are more meaningful to me than the bigger accomplishments. From this year’s growing list: Learning to cut Ron’s hair feels more tender to me than learning to facilitate the labyrinth. Both made my list and were meaningful to me but one celebrates the smaller moments that I want to remember and cherish. Just keep a little notepad nearby and plant this intention, you’ll be amazed at what emerges.

When everything feels like it’s speeding up, slow it down, friend. Between the state of the world and the rush of holiday expectations, your intentionality will go a long way toward helping you embody the peace you desire for yourself and our world.

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A FEW THINGS WORTH SHARING:

1. If you struggle with trying to do it all, I invite you to consider a more intentional approach.  What am I trying to grow in my life?” Give this question some thought as it will help you to frame your priorities and daily intentions.  (via Krista Resnick)

2. "I will light candles this Christmas.

   Candles of joy, despite all the sadness.

   Candles of hope where despair keeps watch.

   Candles of courage where fear is ever present.

   Candles of peace for tempest-tossed days.

   Candles of grace to ease heavy burdens.

   Candles of love to inspire all of my living.

   Candles that will burn all the year long. "

   — Howard Thurman

3. My failed attempts to get a photo of my pups under the Christmas tree. :) Also note: not a single gift under the tree yet.

   

4. This beautiful essay. Finding Light in Winter by Mary Pipher

   via the NewYorkTimes.com

Claude Monet, “Snow in Argenteuil” (1875).

“The mornings are dark, the late afternoons are dusky, and before we finish making dinner, the daylight is gone. As we approach the darkest days of the year, we’re confronted with the darkness of wars, a dysfunctional government, fentanyl deaths, mass shootings and reports of refugees crawling through the Darién Gap or floundering in small boats in the Mediterranean. And we cannot avoid the tragedy of climate change with its droughts, floods, fires and hurricanes. Indeed, the world is pummeled with misfortune

We can count ourselves lucky if we do not live in a war zone or a place without food or drinking water, but we read the news. We see the disasters on our screens. Ukraine, Israel and Gaza are all inside us. If we are empathic and awake, we share the pain of all the world’s tragedies in our bodies and in our souls. We cannot and should not try to block out those feelings of pain. When we try, we are kept from feeling much of anything, even love and joy. We cannot deny reality, but we can control how much we take in.

I am in the last decades of life and sometimes I feel that my country and our species are also nearing end times. The despair I feel about the world would ruin me if I did not know how to find light. Whatever is happening in the world, whatever is happening in our personal lives, we can find light.

This time of year, we must look for it. I am up for sunrise and outside for sunset. I watch the moon rise and traverse the sky. I light candles early in the evening and sit by the fire to read. And I walk outside under the blue-silver sky of the Nebraska winter. If there is snow, it sparkles, sometimes like a blanket of diamonds, other times reflecting the orange and lavender glow of a winter sunset.

For other kinds of light, we can turn to our friends and family. Nothing feels more like sunlight than walking into a room full of people who are happy to see me. I think of my son and daughter-in-law on my birthday, Zeke making homemade ravioli and Jamie baking an apple cake, their shining eyes radiating love. Or of my friends, sitting outdoors around a campfire in our coats and hats, reciting poetry and singing songs.

We also have the light of young children. My own grandchildren are far away, but I spend time with 9-year-old Kadija. My husband and I are sponsoring her family; they arrived here from Afghanistan, with only the father speaking English, only a few months ago. Already, she can bring me a picture book and read “whale,” “porpoise” and “squid” in a voice that reminds me of sleigh bells. I know someday she will be a surgeon, or perhaps a poet.

In our darkest moments, art creates a shaft of light. There is light in a poetry book by Joy Harjo, a recording by Yo-Yo Ma and in a collection of Monet’s paintings of snow.

The rituals of spiritual life will also illuminate our days. In my case, it is sun salutations, morning prayers, meditation and readings from Thich Nhat Hanh, the Vietnamese Buddhist monk and influential Zen master. Also, it’s the saying of grace and the moments when I slow down and am present. Whatever our rituals, they allow us to hold on through the darkness until the light returns.

Finally, we will always have the light of memory. When I recall my grandmother’s face as she read to me from “Black Beauty” or held my hand in church, I can calm down and feel happy. I feel the light on my skin when I remember my mother at the wheel of her Oldsmobile, her black doctor’s bag beside her. Driving home from a house call, she would tell me stories from her life on a ranch in the Great Depression and during the Dust Bowl.

Deep inside us are the memories of all the people we’ve ever loved. A favorite teacher, a first boyfriend, a best friend from high school or a kind aunt or uncle. And when I think of my people, I’m suffused with light that reminds me that I have had such fine people in my life and that they are still with me now and coming back to help me through hard times.

Every day I remind myself that all over the world most people want peace. They want a safe place for their families, and they want to be good and do good. The world is filled with helpers. It is only the great darkness of this moment that can make it hard to see them.

No matter how dark the days, we can find light in our own hearts, and we can be one another’s light. We can beam light out to everyone we meet. We can let others know we are present for them, that we will try to understand. We cannot stop all the destruction, but we can light candles for one another.” - Mary Pipher

Dr. Pipher is a clinical psychologist and writer in Lincoln, Neb., and the author, most recently, of “A Life in Light: Meditations on Impermanence.

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Lastly, may you be comforted and held by the One who brings the Light as you seek to hold the pain of the world and the wonder of Great Love in both hands this season.

May we light candles for one another.

With love and care and light,

xo Mary

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A portion of our paid subscriptions this month goes to: Rocky Mountain Refuge

Rocky Mountain Refuge is the only shelter in Colorado that offers round-the-clock custodial family-style care, where people experiencing homelessness are kept safe and comfortable and can receive hospice care from our partner agencies. People experiencing homelessness often don’t have adequate access to hospice care which most of our citizens take for granted. 

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