Before life forces you

We are approaching Advent, a period of four weeks in anticipation of the arrival of the first light, the flame of the origin that precedes life. Advent is a period of fasting in the broadest sense of the word. It is our last chance before the new year to come fully to terms with ourselves; to consciously choose what we let wither, the old husk we leave behind in the shadows. The times around the solstices are like the hinges of the year, the cumulative peaks of light and darkness to which we respond consciously or unconsciously. This awareness grips me every year. The feeling that this quiet period of anticipation is precious can cause me to freeze, and seduce me towards unimportant matters and sources of distraction. It is a pitfall I encounter every year. I have a longing for rest and quiet in a period that feels unnecessarily busy. Partly because everyone is occupied with finishing up before the new year and organising stuff around the holidays, but also the pressure I impose on myself wanting to do everything well. In this period I am often in conflict with myself; for a long time I was unconsciously incapable, these days rather consciously so. Working towards the light requires courage and perseverance. I fail every day; every day there is a reason to be disappointed in something I wanted to do or should not be doing. In those moments I am tempted to give up the day. Daring to recognise that I have taken a wrong path requires courage, for in that moment I have a choice. On one hand the treacherously easy path further down, or the painful way back up. The way upwards is the way back to the beginning, the place I came from before I lost my way. In the ascent I test my perseverance and with my dedication I can reclaim my dignity. Above my desk I have a note listing my sources of value. These are activities I know help me reconnect with the stream of living water within me. None of them are easy to begin with, but when I start doing one of them consciously the path down loses its lustre and I slowly start beginning the day anew. These sources of value compel me to stop the train I am in and help me reflect whether I am engaged with what is right for me.

Stopping before you begin

Perhaps no longer knowing how to stop is the greatest challenge of this age. We are good at moving forward, driven both by good motives, such as our inspiration or compassion, as well as by our shadows, such as our need to prove ourselves or desire for personal gain. Stopping, just as beginning anew, requires courage, because looking around when we know we are no longer on our path is frightening; it reaches back to a primal fear of becoming lost and forsaken. Think about sources of value that compel you to stop. Moments throughout the day, and certainly the beginning and end of the day, consecrated and venerated, to check in with yourself or a higher power. Stop yourself, before life forces you to stop. When the emergency stop is the first time we disembark, we will stand face to face with the savage desert that is our life, far away from sources of life. Better practise day by day with the arduous way back to your starting point, the moment before you got lost. The way back upwards makes you more resilient and brings you back into the light. And for that you must first stop, especially around this time of year.