I've heard it said that the Dalai Lama once suggested that the best thing we could do to make a better world would be to go to bed when it's dark, and get up when it's light. He’s talking about living in alignment with the ecosystem, and I'm sure he would extend the principle beyond each day and night to honoring the seasons of the year, the rhythms of sowing and reaping, gathering in festivals that mark noisy harvests, and quiet withdrawal to contemplation too.
I've appreciated the past few weeks as a marker of the end of one year and stepping into another. I come partly from the tradition born in Advent, and for which Christmas is a religious holiday; although even that tradition emerged from another culture, so whatever your tradition may be, December and early January grant us invitations to know that we are alive. Living in alignment with the needs, wants, griefs, and joys of the landscape we inhabit: our bodies (and immense mountain ranges), our minds (and deepening valleys), our food and medicine (and cities), our art (and endless seascapes), our tales (and primordial forests) - they're all landscapes. Our most private stories and our almost imperceptible yet unexpectedly permeating connections with strangers.
Landscapes whose terrain we can learn to honor or dispute.
What I enjoyed about the last few weeks is the part of me that was able, despite much busyness and movement, and unexpected events, to mark the turning of the year, which also felt like the turning of myself. Naming the specialness of December matters. Letting New Year's Eve be something is a reminder that any day is something. Of course every day, every year, every decade, every life is a mingling of the mundane and the extraordinary. But if we draw no distinction between one day or the next, or one time of year and the next, we may end up like a train with no windows that goes from one station to another without ever stopping to let us get out and be somewhere. So I'm grateful for the opportunity to mark the end of one year, and the beginning of another.
Whatever 2022 holds for you, you're welcome on The Porch - reading the words we publish, joining us in connection online or in person, or just knowing that there is a growing community of people who know that hope and depth are not opposites, suffering and joy don't need the one to disappear for the other to be experienced, and each of us has a treasurable and profound part to play in the story of the evolution of life, of love, and of meaning.
PS: In The Porch recently (see www.theporchmagazine.com for more):
* Morgan Meis on the meaning of David Byrne’s American Utopia
* Martha Tatarnic would like to date a feminist
* Jamie Aln seeks to harness love
* Stan Dotson memorialises A Hundred Years Ago
* More writing in the spirit of a conversation about beautiful, and difficult things, from David Crowther
* And, as always, advice from the Dolly Mama on compassion fatigue, should I become a writer?, and are my jokes offensive?
And finally, we’re hosting a new Porch Course with Frank Schaeffer:
Fall in Love, Have Children*, Stay Put, Save the Planet, Be Happy
Frank offers a passionate political, social, and lifestyle "blueprint" for changes millions of us know are needed to rebalance our work lives with thriving relationships. Even before everything was disrupted by COVID-19, millions of US Americans were already questioning capitalism's "values". We were already challenging the idea that your job defines you. We already knew something was wrong. Loneliness, frustration, and alienation were already on the rise. Even the most "successful" among us felt too busy, too preoccupied, and too distracted to enjoy what we intuitively know are life's greatest rewards: vibrant relationships, family life, connection to others, involvement in our community, and the thrilling experience of love.
Join Frank for five live online sessions, Sundays 7-830pm Eastern (or watch the recordings later), from January 23rd - details and registration at https://www.theporchcourses.com/
Registration is $49, but no one will be turned away for lack of funds.
