December's Darkest Days

Good Morning,

Here in the New England, the darkest days of the year have arrived. Sometimes it seems as though we are crawling toward the Winter Solstice. The added craziness of the upcoming holidays can cause us to feel overwhelmed and exhausted. There is pressure to be happy, to spend time with our ‘perfect’ family, and to feel joy. Instead, some feel the loss of those who are no longer with us, the financial strain of the season, and the sheer exhaustion resulting from the accelerated pace of seasonal activities.

For many, holiday tradition involves spending time together with our family. A holiday meal or some other special activity is planned. This can draw added attention to how challenging our families can be. Family problems don’t take a holiday vacation. Those who have lost loved ones feel this deeply. The empty chair at the holiday table can be unbearable. Families, who have experienced some sort of heartbreaking estrangement, now have to face that fact squarely. A recent divorce, a family member with mental illness, substance addiction, or a rift between siblings, can hang in the air like a dark cloud.

How can we manage all of this? How do we find a sense of peace in the midst of so much that challenges us? How do we avoid a holiday meltdown?  What is this season really about?

Every year, I ponder these questions. I have learned to try to manage the holiday schedule more reasonably. Sometimes we just have to say no, even when we want to say yes. A night spent quietly at home offers us an opportunity to find our center. Quiet time, adequate sleep, and attention to what we are eating, can be enormously beneficial. In this culture, everything about the season takes us away from those things.

This morning, I felt a bit overwhelmed. It was dark and cold. The ‘to do’ list was looming, the laundry piling up, and the schedule at work was frantic. It all began to feel impossible. I headed out with the dog for the ritual early morning walk. Five minutes into our walk, a soft snow began to fall. The birds could be heard singing in the distance. Walking by the old farmhouse up the street, huge white flakes of snow were highlighted against the dark red of the barn. The bare branches of trees and shrubs were now visible. Perched on the branch of a nearby tree, a male cardinal was displaying his brilliant plumes. Suddenly, I found myself fully in the moment.

This was the deep peace I had been longing for.