I had it in mind that I would post a journal entry from early December; but after typing it up, it is more of a rant triggered by a text than it is blog-worthy reflective writing. While I think the content is of benefit to others, it is a bit heavy and needs more finessing. At any rate, it will be a chapter in my book—some day. The topic was the “misuse” of prayer and faith, if you’re curious. It is also not where my head is at today.
My reflections lately have been in the context of the four themes of Advent: Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love. I have been searching out articles and meditations to create an “Advent notebook” that I can refer to year after year. I began this project last year, but it fell by the wayside as these things usually do. I picked it up again well into this Advent season. It seems to have snuck up on me, somehow. Maybe next year I will have my ducks in the proverbial row to have a mindful Advent practice.
On my spiritual journey, like many others, I am easily triggered this time of year with expectations and misguided, yet well-intentioned, expressions and traditions. My quest for reflective materials, therefore, were not “Christmassy” per se or even religious. But I do appreciate the tradition of Advent and taking time out each week for reflection on a theme.
I grew up with an Advent log with five candles (typically Advent wreaths or logs hold four candles representing the four Sundays before Christmas Day, but ours included a Christmas Day candle). Each Sunday a new candle was lit, and if not the first Sunday, the previous candles were lit as well. Christmas day, all five candles were lit. However, that is where the tradition began and ended. We did not have any liturgical reference to the meaning of each candle.
Much later in life, after continuing the Advent candle practice every Christmas season as an adult, I learned of the significance of each candle. Some years, I even incorporated the themes into my blog entries. Only recently have I made an effort to reflect upon the themes more mindfully and purposefully. However, I do not limit myself to an ecumenical framework, rather embracing the true “reason for the season”—winter solstice—which the Catholic Church appropriated in order to provide parishioners with an alternative to pagan or secular celebrations.
The reason for this holiday season, regardless of your worldview or religious leaning, remains the same: celebration of light—a way to mark the shift from darkness to light. The shortest day being around December 21st. So my personal celebrations include reflecting upon the themes of Advent in this broader context. Each Sunday, the days gets a little shorter. Even more noticeable now as the Christmas tree lights could go on earlier, but I am too lazy to adjust the timer. I notice the absence of light and appreciate the diversion of the holiday season—the season that marks a turning point. I think the winter would be harder to bear without this celebration of light.
Being who I am, a deep thinker and feeler, it is not enough to embrace this season at its most shallow. It has to be meaningful for me. And I have found doing so mindfully with purpose has been therapeutic. Now that I have my notebook (mostly) assembled, I am already looking forward to next year. A yearly reminder of what Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love mean to me—which in counselling parlance is akin to maintaining therapeutic gains—reminding me of how far I have come while acknowledging the journey does not have an end point.
Dictionary.com defines advent as “a coming into place, view, or being; arrival.” I think that perfectly describes the essence of this season. It is a coming into place marked by various festivities. We arrive at the turning point: the days start getting longer as we look towards the lightness of spring. And for me, it is an arrival point of personal reflection.
What are your favourite aspects of this season celebrating the transition from darkness to light? What makes it meaningful for you? What would you like to add or subtract to make it more meaningful? How ever you celebrate (even if you choose not to), I wish everyone a Wonder-full “seasonal transition” filled with Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love.
I have been trying to recapture a blog idea that formulated during one of those half-asleep moments; but now it eludes me. The subject matter is retrievable, but not its significance—that a-ha moment. And given today’s reading, maybe that in itself is significant.
The concept from today’s reading was along the lines of going with the flow and being open to a plan not of my own making. So many thoughts are twisting and knotting in my mind about missed opportunities and following God’s Will. How to untangle the mess to make sense of it?
Maybe I’d better start with yesterday’s conversation with a client and work from there. It was a conversation about being scared enough by an amazing opportunity that it impacted the decision- making process. None of us have ever been there, right?
The discussion led to the different types of fear such as the fear that protects by stopping us (looking both ways before crossing a street). Then there’s the fear that results in proceeding with caution. The worst kind is the fear that spirals into immobilizing anxiety. In case you are wondering what to do when experiencing fear (which is your friend, not your foe), the basic steps are to: 1) validate the fear (acknowledge what you are feeling and allow it to offer its message); 2) self-soothe (calm the amygdala to allow higher functioning parts of the brain to come online); and 3) assess. What kind of fear am I feeling? What is the message? And what will I choose to do with that message?
In a nutshell, what we choose to do can either set us up for success or self-sabotage. I excel at the latter. And talking with this client brought to mind more than one incident of my own self-sabotage, but one in particular from when I lived in the Yukon.
When I first moved to Whitehorse, I had almost completed a Bachelor of Arts degree—which I finished by correspondence (back before distance education was what it is today). I am not sure if this moment of self-sabotage came before or after that. I am trying to recall all the jobs I had when I stepped onto the stage of the Whitehorse employment scene. To begin, I had a temporary job working for a friend of my brother in his sign making shop. And then I worked for a day care for a bit. I had also applied for a teacher’s aid position for the government program that educated special needs children.
It was while I was working at the day care that I heard from the teacher’s aid position which they didn’t offer me. They offered me a full-time teaching position which scared the pants off of me. I told them I was working for the day care. Their response was if that didn’t work out to let them know.
Well, it didn’t work out; but I didn’t let the government position know. My confidence was shattered by how the day care job ended. Not that I had enough confidence for accepting a full-time teaching job. I was too intimidated by that and really didn’t believe I could do it. I also denied myself the opportunity of finding out. Besides, surely there was an applicant more qualified than myself?
I let my response to fear self-sabotage rather than set me up for future success (whether at that job or elsewhere). I wasn’t in any danger (protection fear); and I was ignorant of the proceed-with-caution fear. So I did what I always did.a I gave anxiety full control over any higher functioning parts of my brain. Of course, I didn’t understand any of this back then. I only knew I was terrified; and my brain processed every fear as that of potential danger and requiring protection. I also didn’t know anything about anxiety at that time. And it would be at least a full year before I took baby steps toward managing depression.
I haven’t given that missed opportunity much thought over the years holding firmly to the belief that it was the wisest course of action given my inexperience. Failure wasn’t an option, you see. My sense of self was far too fragile to fall flat on my face trying something new. Looking back, I likely could have done the job. I never bothered to find out the details to consider if it was truly do-able. Nor did I have anyone in my corner to suggest I explore it.
My modus operandi was to fly under the radar. And taking a teaching job was not consistent with that belief system. Fear of the anxious kind dominated my decision-making process. So where does the will of God enter the picture? Well, it’s like this. I was raised in a fairly conservative Christian environment. Not as strict as some, but not as open minded as would have been healthy. It was also an abusive environment which this blog is not about.
But following the Sovereign Will of God was entrenched into my thinking (or lack there of). It was a passive obedience rather than an active one. I had to wait for direction (which seldom came by the way). It was also dangerous to bypass the will of God. Apparently there was a script I was to follow that I never got quite right, which meant every decision I needed to make had to first be considered whether it was the Will of God or not. And one didn’t want to fall out of God’s will by making the wrong decision!
It wasn’t until much later in life that I learned the will of God was fairly easy to follow. Love God. Love yourself. Love your neighbour. It was a matter of principle and life values, not specific direction. But “back then,” following the will of God was a matter of life and death. Decision making fell under the fear of protection. Danger was everywhere.
Learning to make decisions based upon embracing the gift of who I am took a lot of reconditioning and practice. Now, I see that long-ago teaching offer as an opportunity to shine that I missed. But my psyche couldn’t tolerate the risk of failure. I still struggle to make decisions that allow myself to shine. Just putting a sign on my fence to advertise my counselling services is anxiety producing.
I have lived in fear my entire life. It’s very hard to emerge from that shadow. And the irony is, it’s very scary. 😊 But if I allow myself to go with the flow, aware that a higher purpose is at work—in a gracious way, not a demanding one—then I can set myself up for potential success. And failure does not mean a death sentence; it’s a redirection of personal resources. There is no definitive plan I am to follow and “get right.” Life (and the Universe) is more fluid than that.
So what is your self-sabotage go to? The imposter syndrome? The not-good-enough shame message? How about not being deserving? Fear of failure, or its counterpart, fear of success? Pressure to perform? Living up to expectations?
What would it be like to shine? To own your particular set of gifts and limitations and work with them rather than against them? Remember, success isn’t the absence of failure, it is the forward momentum in spite of them. Sally forth, my fellow travellers, sally forth.
I actually had this blog written October 11th in my journal, but somehow the month got away from me in digitizing it. Thanks to a reader for the reminder. This blog entry was prompted by a chapter from Drinking From the River of Light: The life of expression by Mark Nepo (2019) entitled “Venetian Interior” referring to a work of art by John Singer Sargent.
Nepo’s description of this work of art is enchanting. I googled it and was hard pressed to see what he did. Maybe seeing it full size makes a difference. But I love Nepo’s interpretation. “The painting pointed to a reality beyond itself. The subject of the painting was the world beyond the frame…The painting was a metaphor for the dark room we can all fall into, even though we know there is light all around. The painting illustrated the truth that the miracle of life doesn’t stop because we lost our way in the dark.”
While I am surrounded by art and crafts, I don’t know of one that pulls me like Nepo’s experience. The statue in Iceland of the mother embracing a child expressed a deep longing—to be loved. I love images of trails through trees. It’s like they’re saying, “There’s more.” The trees are beckoning me to continue walking, to keep exploring. I also like closeups of flowers with blurred backgrounds or highlighted with a beam of sunlight against dark backgrounds. Again, it’s like nature is enticing me saying, “Look closer. There’s more.”
And maybe that is a metaphor for my life. Look away from the dark room, out the window, to the light. Look up from your feet and see what surrounds you. Notice the details of life beyond your own existence.
Maybe that is also a metaphor for recovery from depression. Notice. Observe. Pay attention. Don’t get sucked into the darkness.
Looking through the photos on my pocket digital camera [they’ve since been uploaded to my laptop], a thought or observation came to me. We need the dark to showcase or even see the light. The contrast. The contradiction. The most striking photographs and works of art play light against dark or vice versa. We see more that way even though there might be less to look at.
Which made me think of my bee “collection.” The bees remind me of their “life philosophy” and not just appeal to me artistically. Ergo seeing beyond the frame. And the bright yellow contrasts with the dark black. They are truly wonders to behold. The bees fit even in with the dark and light theme as they create in the darkness of their hives. They collect the pollen in the sharp brightness of day and return to the dark to rest and to make sweet honey that is the colour of amber when held to the light. It’s magic in a jar. And it couldn’t happen without darkness.
I think humans are the same. We can’t shine our brightest unless we experience some darkness. Perfection is only seen in contrast to the imperfect. Humans are not perfect, but we are perfectly imperfect. Only when we embrace our humanness—our imperfections, our tendency to “mess up”—can we truly shine. We can only be bright against our dark. And maybe we can only shine as bright as our darkest night. The less we own our dark, the more dim our light. In that case, I’d be a neon bulb. 😉
I have more unexplored darkness. The deeper we enter the cave, the brighter the light we carry with us. I may have to remember that the next bout of depression. Grab a flashlight!
