Monday, December 19, 2011

Holiday sign-off

I'm taking a break for the holidays, but before I sign off I want to share a thought that came to me like all my great thoughts, in the shower.

Earlier today, I read about different cultural and faith traditions that occur this time of year. They all revolve around the return of light to the world, a birth of the Sun (or Son). We are not as connected to the cycles of nature as our ancestors were and it’s tempting to see darkness as something that must be rectified. This year, I invite you to take some time to reflect on what short days and long nights can teach you.

My instinct is to turn away from the intense sadness, irreconcilable grief and the immense pain of what has been lost. I think all of the sentimentality and forced celebration of this time of year brings an even greater sense of disconnection because it stands in opposition to what is going on outside of our brightly lit homes. In my experience, betraying or denying the darkness only intensifies it.

Maybe if we just allow our dark nights to express themselves without fear or disdain, when the light returns, it can return from the inside out.

Another idea occurred to me in the shower. It’s tempting to see the winter solstice as the end of the darkness, but really the darkness is just beginning to end. In fact, we have some ugly months ahead of us – the bleak grey that fades into purple shadows of January and February.

So it is with cancer treatment. You don’t walk out of the treatment center on the last day and straight into June even though people, maybe even you, might hope you will.

I think our lives can become richer and less chaotic when we see the way the cyclical and necessary impermanence as more than just something that happens out there.

I don’t say this in a trite “cancer is a gift” way.  I would never ask anyone to see the tragedies of their life in such a way.  But I believe there is a lot to be learned by these dark days and our slow, messy return to light. In fact, the gift comes from you, not from disease or anything else that happens to us.  You give it to yourself when in the interest of wholeness you compassionately look at your own darkness and bravely welcome the light.

Have a joyous a peaceful holiday season, no matter how you choose to celebrate. (here’s a list of options, by the way).  I’ll see you in 2012.

Source: belief.net

6 comments:

Praelior said...

Wishing you all the best this holiday season. Enjoy the break! :)

The Accidental Amazon said...

<3 <3 Joy and peace to you, Katie.

Renn @ The Big C and Me said...

Beautiful Katie. Thanks for that lovely reminder to embrace the dark and the light. Peace in the new year.

AnneMarie said...

Katie,
I wish you joy, joy, joy..... You write beautifully and I will be looking forward your reflections as we yank those 2011 calendars from their pushpins and replace them with 2012 models. I always look forward to December 21. As the sun sets one minute earlier until that day, I gather steam waiting, waiting...... And sometimes (being the biggest cold weather is yuk person), the ONLY thing that helps me through the doldrums is knowing, "Hey, each day the sun is setting one minute LATER.... we have MORE light...."

I sent you love.

BreastCancerSisterhood.com said...

Katie,
A very poignant and beautiful post. I wish you love and health and a Merry Christmas.

Kristi said...

Beautiful Katie, thank you, as always, for your words. I have so enjoyed reading them all year and look forward to wherever you take us in 2012. Enjoy the growing lightness, and your holiday with your family.