This year is finishing wildly different than the last.
Over the past two years, the holiday season has been filled with equal measures of joy and pain. The sickness of a close relative the year before last, and then last year losing a pregnancy just two weeks before Christmas. I can tell you I was downing the wine and seeking moments of joy where I could that year. It was tough, and so common which is why I feel like if you're someone comfortable talking about these things, it's an important conversation. It connects so many of us and takes away the aloneness of it all. The shame that many people seem to feel.
And now this year, our third Christmas together, we are counting kicks and planning for the arrival of (all fingers and toes crossed) a little bundle of boy.
What a bloody whirlwind.
Joy and Pain, Sunshine and Rain
Even in the dark spots. When life promised to turn everything on its axis, there were so many little sparks of joy. It always astounds me that joy can exist so closely next to pain. And I guess the longer we are lucky enough to live, the more this is true. The grief, the sad, never goes away, but the joy always finds a way to coexist. As Thich Nhat Hanh said in one of my favourite interviews:
"You can only recognize your happiness against the background of suffering. If you have not suffered hunger, you do not appreciate having something to eat. If you have not gone through a war, you don't know the value of peace. That is why we should not try to run away from one thing after another thing. Holding our suffering, looking deeply into it, we find a way to happiness."
The interview can be found here.
The sun is always brighter after the rain.
And there is often a silver lining. The loss last year solidified our desire to try again. In the shortest span of time, as with the Grinch, our hearts grew three sizes and that which was somedays uncertain became a dream we both shared.
Solstice Wisdom
December 21st is one of my favourite days of the year. The return of longer days and the light. This year I attended my first in-person meditation since the pandemic started, lead by a woman whose sessions always fill me with peace and good vibes, Ayah Norris. About 10 women joined, and we sat in a circle, the room lit by candlelight and smelling of Sage or Palo Santo (I can't remember which at this point).
First up was a cocoa ceremony, as cocoa is meant to open the heart. We were asked to consider what in the past year we were grateful for, and what in the new year we wanted to open our hearts to. It's a great question to reflect on any day of the year.
Next, we meditated on what we wanted to let go of from 2022 and what lessons we wanted to bring forward to 2023.
The coolest part for me was when we were asked to put all of the advice we had written into a pile in the middle of the circle, and then chose (without seeing what was on the cards) someone else's lesson, that might guide us for the coming year. While we each seemed to draw a lesson that felt applicable to our lives, we all admitted feeling a connection to all of the lessons. Each person then shared the experience that taught them this lesson, and it was a really beautiful moment of connection and sharing.
The lesson that I shared was: Good things can happen. Don't give up hope.
I think you can imagine what story I focussed on.
The lesson that I selected was: It's not up to you to fix everyone else's problems.
I love this lesson, as I currently have so many new people in my life and I worry about all of them as much as I worry about myself.
At one point in the evening we were asked to reflect on each month of the past year and what that month looked like, felt like, and taught us. Many of us couldn't quite remember the moments and the feelings that coloured these months. This a good reminder of what I want to take into 2023, which is to really focus more on enjoying and being present in the moment, a constant life goal for me. Another great reminder from Thich Nhat Hanh:
"People sacrifice the present for the future. But life is available only in the present. That is why we should walk in such a way that every step can bring us to the here and the now."
New Year Wishes
These days for me every day looks completely different, with new symptoms and an unpredictable state of mind/body. I can’t plan as much. My Type A tendencies are taking a back seat. I give myself permission to take a pass on things, but then I feel guilty. I know I need to let things go, especially the guilt and take the magic moments when they come. And trust that do always come again. I have not mastered this. I'm really trying to pay attention to what my body and mind need and would make me feel energized instead of what I've always done or think I should do.
So this year for me, it's not really resolutions so much as things that are a continuous work in progress A year of mantras and desires:
Have a healthy baby
Try to stay in the moments more
Send love and light
Focus on the love
Let go of expectations of myself and others
Practise gratitude
Don’t sweat the small stuff ( and as the book says - it’s all small stuff)
Get out of my own way
Despite the joy of this pregnancy, the year has been a bit like walking on eggshells. Every symptom, every twinge became a cause for anxiety after last year's loss. But here we are, weathered and warm. Both happy and anxious and excited. Hoping for the best, as I wish for all of you.
Leaving you with a poem from Donna Ashburn that I absolutely love:
"No, 2023 won’t be the best year yet.
Nor will it be the worst.
You see, a year is a mosaic of absolutely everything.
Joy, fear, heartache, loss, beauty, pain, love.
Failure, learning, friendship, misery, exhilaration.
Each day, each moment even is a tiny shard of glass in this beautiful, confusing creation. 2023 will be another mosaic to add to your wall of art.
A wall that shows the life, you are continuously gifted.
A wall that shows you are human.
A wall of survival.
I wish you many broken pieces of glass this year, my friends.
Because this is living.
And before you march on into another year of ‘everything’, pause to look back, at the work you have created thus far.
It is quite something.
You are quite something.
Now onwards we go, my friends.
Onwards we go.
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