Category Archives: Seasonal Sadness

September is Gently Leading

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September has an agenda. It begins to shut us down. Because it is cooler, we close the doors and windows. We begin the transition. I found the summer’s relentless pounding heat unpleasant. If I had wanted to live in Death Valley, Algeria or Iraq, I would have purchased a ticket and packed my body armour sunscreen.

We were protected this year from the toxic air lung destruction of past years. The fires were mostly far away. Because only other people suffered, I did not have to think of it. The flooding of past years that washed away the highway and isolated communities was not part of our story this year. Because only other people suffered, I did not have to think of it.

And then at the end, as if to remind us not to celebrate too soon the toxic air floated in for a week to obscure the hills, obstruct the breathing and send us indoor with windows firmly closed.

It fascinates me how my defacto setting is “separation.” Not me is the first message on my assessment dial. I observe myself following the stone path laid out for me by my culture. The lines, the boundaries, the subsets of reality so carefully drawn that rule my thoughts.

September is not summer. It is more contemplative, reclusive, and harder to know. Is it predictive, is it compliant with some nature Gods that rule the universe?

We just sit back and observe it. It is like driving on a highway and going up into the hills. Will there be fog, ice, and danger around the corner?

The volunteer pumpkin lantern plants were profuse this year. The blackberries baked on the bushes. The grapes began well but were eaten by the animals living under my shed. Everywhere around me I see that there is no probable outcome. It is a game of chance this living on the earth.

I watch September’s days expecting some form of climate insanity to manifest. I do this to protect myself. I want to be ready for whatever happens next that I can’t possibly know. That pattern of logic is the very definition of instability.

 

Where are you taking us September? What next?

Christmas Choices

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We are told in books such as Switch: How to Change when Change is Hard that self discipline is a muscle. At the happy holiday season, the expectations are like vultures circling overhead. I saw people at Home Depot the other day entranced by the display.

This year new lights are shelved. New delights are displayed. Whatever you have done previously, is not enough. This year the lights are all white, or have 10 possible selections for sequencing. It is a brilliant, sparkling display of exactly what drives the population.

The fear of being out of step stems from ancient DNA encoding. If we were shunned; if we were denied food, shelter, companionship the only possible future awaiting us was to walk deep into the forest and await the inevitable manifestation of our particular death. The houses of the medieval village were no longer sanctuaries. The forgiveness of the church was no longer available. At the best, all we could hope for would be a quick death. At the worst, our souls would be damned to eternal hell fire and a very physical torture.

And so we are desperate to “fit in” to the rhythm of our society. People discard the old round Christmas lights and get the newly designed ones that signal importance and status. Shining out into the cold darkness of winter, is the message that this household is important. This household knows how to fit into the village. We have status.

As I was walking between the people with their carts filled with the newly designed badges of belonging, my rebellious in dwelling imp got out of control. I stopped and said,” Do you know Canadians have the highest credit card debt of any society on earth. We are #1.”

We are the love we seek

Some husbands turned and looked at their wide eyed, pupil dilated wives who had been pointing out what “new” items to put in the cart. There were looks exchanged.

And then I laughed. “It always feels good to be #1.”

What we learn from behaviour studies is that when we put too much pressure on ourselves to please others; when we require of ourselves that we go out to ten events in two weeks; when we take on heavy duty responsiblities that are out side our normative behaviour we become like a weight lifter that has lifted to fail.
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It is when it becomes too much that we turn to sugar, alcohol, screen addition, the quick fix of the credit card. Christmas is specifically designed like a no exit room to keep us in thrall to choices that do not serve us.

We become too exhausted to do anything more than make choices that are already made for us.

A woman at Michaels’ was buying a giant wooden sign that said Ho, Ho, Ho with glittery letters. And once again my pugnacious persona started laughing. It was a long line of people grasping at happiness with their baskets full of decoration.

I said, “What a good sign. After Christmas you can turn it around and it will read, “Oh, Oh, Oh to reflect your feeling when you read your credit card bill.”

Surprisingly enough all ten people in line laughed,  Maybe there is hope for us. Maybe we are always understanding even in the throws of addiction that we are in the throws of addiction.

And I am just glad, I don’t get sent to the principal’s office when my imp shows up.

My best practice now is to think, “If I were totally adult and sane right now… what would I choose?” It is something to consider. Merry Mindful Christmas.

 

Autumn: What is happening?

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Autumn is a high wire act. The peak performance summer with its heat, 600 forest fires and 4 new guests every day into my home is one end of the wire. The other end is deep winter with its muted sounds, its sentinel plants poking up through the snow, its folding in on itself like a blanket around a reluctant person. In between, there are days that bring motivation. The gray coolness will be cut open with a sun knife and the clouds parted. The heat from the sky available in certain spot light areas.

As people turn up their furnaces, change blankets on the beds, structure new types of exercise into their lives the focus is on preparation.

How fitting it is that in the USA preparation for November 6th is also under way. The tribal disparities in belief systems have never been more virulent. Each side is now in a viral anger against the other. The background orchestral anxiety music is now playing so loudly it is causing a visceral reaction. Something is happening…. but it is impossible to see what it is.

We wait for winter hoping it will not present itself according to the predictions of the Farmer’s Almanac… a fierce and memorable assault. We wait for the election results in the USA with breath held. We wait to see if the disaffection with politicians and governments will fuel the rise of the hard cold presence of the conservatives here in Canada.
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Around the world there is a sense that we are only just maintaining our balance in a confusing time.

The work is to know we, each of us, walk alone together. Only the individual can stay in compassion and thereby show others a way of extending kindness. Only the individual can remain committed to healthy practices and thus show others it is possible to disengage from the self destructive distractions presented to us. Trusting our bodies is central. Trusting our in born values is more important than ever. Staying in a “self re-set” state is what past traumatic situations can teach us. The road of history is strewn with the psyches of those who trembled in fear. But those who know how to trust, know we are simply walking between two structures. Autumn turns to winter. Civilizations self destruct. Failing system fail. And now we take a breath. And now we find our balance. We hold onto the balance pole of love and stay focused.

Each passage from one structure of shared reality to another is giving us lessons. We are here to learn. It is a journey. Keep your balance.

A Full Moon and Mortality

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It is a time of sadness. I am sleeping deeply with the comfort of my habitual sadness blanket wrapping me alone. I am a mummy in my bed, the cold air cracking in my window strokes my face.

meditation on Christmas
The Ice full moon burns cold in the empty sky and next door my neighbours have colored lights strung on every branch in their yard. They are unafraid of child wonder excess in their unfenced territory.
I have a single ornament swinging from the hook meant to cradle newspapers. The gold star is all that I have left from what I threw out when I changed my life.
Under the fat moon the snow was blue, last night, and sequined. But I could not capture my reality with my camera as I stood there. It would not read whether I stood or crouched.
Reaching out. Not reaching out. All the same, my ego tells me. I am a vessel sink and the memories pass through me like water carried away somewhere I cannot know. The seven families that I have passed through are present at Christmas.

Just now, I lack the fire to excite myself. Teaching myself patience day by day, I sit meditation and feel into my thoughts like breath, like water passing in and through me.
I watch the desire for the perfect self appear and pass away.
And I listen to my ego chastising me for the errors that I insist upon repeating.
I wrestle with the desire not to wrestle with my thoughts and simply drop my eyes to feel so much grief for being human. The grief of yearning for more than I could possibly hold in my own two fists is singing to me.
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I watch and endure the waiting for the end of waiting. I think of the magnificent sparkler moments when I just burst into the light an ecstasy moment of love.
I am sitting waiting for passion to carry me out of this frozen time, to carry me above the rigidness of anger. I endure the invasions of barbarian thoughts destroying everything in their path.

We create the self. We go beyond the self
I work on myself learning how to accommodate the chaos of being alive in a body in this time, at this time, marked by the franking of my sex, my family, my culture, my identification.

The only untainted goal is to be between restless desires for a split moment and let the tears like water flow from me, flow through me to clarify my vision so that I maybe present when I am called upon to love.
I sit and watch the invasions of my barbarian thoughts and forgive myself for being merely and so magnificently human.