5 Ways To Honour Slowness and Grief this Holiday Season

Like many, I have experienced life changing loss during a December past, and notice the tension between needing space to grieve and feeling pulled into mandatory merriment - often at the cost of authenticity. Do you feel the battle between Holiday Norm (he of consumerism, shiny lights, and crammed schedules) and the call of Sister Winter (she of slowing down, looking inward, huddling together, reflecting and feeling what is real)? Here are some invitations to consider this holiday szn...

1. Could you delete email and social media apps from your phone? - What if we use them on the computer instead? And set a timer so we don't get sucked in?

2. Could you treat yourself to 30 Minutes of Being a Sad Sack each day? Put on a sad album and do whatever creative activity you want to do to honour the sorrows - stay with your sadness while you make a collage, honour your rage with a solo dance party, or tend to your ecological grief with a very emo walk in the rain.

3. Is it possible to pause before making more plans? When receiving a social engagement invitation, what would happen if you didn't respond until you've had time to sit down with yourself and ask "is this really for me?" and if it's not - release shame or guilt and say no thank you? I believe love is reaching out our soul for the benefit of another, not depleting and hurting ourselves in order to grasp to connection.

4. Instead of screen time... What if you read a book, learn a song, pet a cat, fill out a free Year Compass journal, visit a tree, call a friend, or nurture your home? Even if it's just every other time you get the urge to numb out.

5. Would you and your roommate/family/partner/friend benefit from a "phone free" day? where you just turn the dang thing off and see what happens?

I want to share some music I love that honours Xmas angst while pointing toward the magic of community. Here's a recording from the Bachstreet Christmas Spectacular 2019, featuring our arrangement of "Sister Winter" by Sufjan Stevens. It begins with a round and vocal improvisation.

Bachstreet was a joyful musical variety ensemble show I used to co-direct with friend Rachel MacEwan in Winnipeg. We blended comedy, classical and pop music, reverence, and silliness for delighted audiences. I think I'll one day be on my deathbed reminiscing about how impossibly ridiculous and sacred BachStreet was.

However you do or don't celebrate, reflect, and connect this month, I wish you tenderness.

Good luck out there.

Love, Anna ✨