The holidays can be a difficult time for many. The family commitments, relationship pressures, mass consumer frenzy, raised expectations expertly dashed, end-of-year workplace crush, colds & flu. Its enough to create a hole from which you feel is all encompassing. The key is to remember that while feelings are real, they are not reality itself. These are cycles, tied to a season of habits and culture – like a leaf on a river we follow the flows. Its part of a narrative, a story of the self, of family, of life – a programming defined for us which we fall into and execute.
But like all cycles, there is an end. Like all programs, they can be rewritten. Like all narratives, it can be retold with your voice, your sensibilities, your values. To remember that your darkest hour is still only 60 minutes is important – and the simple pleasures and reminders of Life brings you out of the dark.
Today I upheld an annual tradition for myself. As sirens cried out around the neighborhood, and air-horns sounded, I went out with coffee in hand, garbed in a long hooded fleece robe. I waited, I heard, I saw… and I waved to the volunteer emergency responders – the fire dept., ambulance and police making their tour with Santa Clause standing atop the ladder truck waving to any that were out. To watch them stop for a house with kids, to hand out a little something – typically candy canes or popcorn balls.
And I smiled…
This song, it its various incarnations, has been playing in my head; I can only surmise its because there’s an important reminder here we need to keep in mind… Song: The Waters of March, cover by Jane Monheit, written by Tom Jobim
“And the riverbank talks
Of the waters of March
It’s the end of all strain
It’s the joy in your heart”