Christmas tree lights…

My mom and my brother arrived this past weekend for the Christmas season. There was a lightness in my step, as I left the house to travel up to the airport. However, there was also a sense of needing to ‘get through’ the first week of visits as I am smack dap in the middle of that sprint to the end of the year and the two week vacation that stares at me like a dangled carrot. Never have I been so happy for the lethargy that comes with jetlag. They’ve been pretty slow moving as they shift their body clocks from Canada to Ireland; and their need for rest has afforded me the space and time to attend to a long to do list. However, one of the more pleasurable tasks on that list was to put up the ol’ Christmas tree. And in doing so, I was reminded of the festive practice of mindfully untangling the Christmas tree lights.

Every year, no matter how painstakingly careful I am in putting the lights away, I find myself faced with the dizzying and, often times, overwhelming chore of unravelling the strings of warm white chaos. And every year, I think to myself, ‘and so it begins’. This is usually the first opportunity to practice what I call seasonal care. In other words, this is when I feel that urge to deliberately slow things down, feel my feet on the ground, take a few deep breaths and meet myself with patience and kindness as a means of mitigating the stress of the holidays.

There are many ways in which we can take extra care as we face into what can be the loudest and brightest time of the year. This could be the need to create boundaries, set realistic goals, schedule time for quiet or transform those social events into opportunities for true presence and mindful connection. However, it is also important to honor all of the emotions that can arrive. Sure, this could be the marketable joy and merriment that splashes across our screens and rings through the radio waves, but it also includes the grief and loneliness that comes with loss and separation. While we don’t need to marinate in these emotions, we can allow them to simply be a part of the whole “deck the halls” experience. What I am saying is that it is OK to make space at the table for some of the messiness of what it means to be human. More importantly, we can do this with humour, patience and self compassion.

This really came alive for me as I fought with those Christmas tree lights. With my brother at one end and I at the other, I audibly took a deep breath as I could feel my shoulders tighten. My brother smiled and said, ‘Remember Jane, things don’t have to be perfect’.

We both laughed as I replied, ‘Thank God for that’.

But I also reminded him that Dad loved a tree with lots of lights; and in the spirit of humorous tribute, gosh darn it, we go those lights untangled.

If you would like to practice some compassionate breathing with us at the Sanctuary’s Tuesday morning online community meditation, we would love to see you. It may be exactly what you need for the season ahead.

-Jane

Click here to join me at the Sanctuary’s online community meditation this Tuesday at 10am.

To listen to and practice a Compassionate Breath meditation, click below: