Your Singular Heart

One at the expense of the other, rather than the acceptance of both.

It’s that time of year—actually, we’re already on the downhill path of the Big Three: Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s. I doubt many of us are at a loss for stimulation. It surrounds us now in countless ways—haunting, actually. It’s easy to be swept up in the holiday spirit, to let ourselves get caught in the doing of things, when so much of nature (and our bodies are not separate from that) is telling us to slow down.

Winter is the darkest time of the year. On my family’s farm growing up, it was the season when work was at its least. This afforded us more time to be less scattered and more together—taking respite from working out in the cold, sitting in a warm house, and playing cards together.

Numerous religions, spiritually oriented cultures, and psychological traditions speak to the necessity of turning inward during this time of year. We enter a place of darkness and shadow—the world of dreams and hidden parts of ourselves. Because of this, the holidays can become a time for idling and reflection, replenishing our interior world and refilling our spirit and joy tanks for the next exterior orbit around the sun.

Be aware if you’re Christmas’ing at the expense of the other. The other includes time alone, letting yourself drift for a bit, and reflecting on where you’ve come from and where you’re going. So please be more accepting of yourself—your dreams and your shadows. Ponder. Reflect. Take singular acts of doing: a walk alone, a short pilgrimage that honors whatever you are making the pilgrimage for, a solo visit to a museum or a concert.

Inhabiting one ensures the ability to inhabit the other in a more patient, grounded, and kind way.

With that is an acceptance of both.

Or, to say it another way: less bowl games and more time for your singular heart.