Happy Sunday! We are in the midst of the final days of 2017. We celebrate a myriad of holidays at this time of year. Families gather. Sometimes it is the only time when everyone is together, which can be a wonderful thing or a challenge (that’s a nice way of saying it).
This is a time when we give in to extremes…we spend too much, eat too much, worry too much and ultimately regret our lapse of control when the new year arrives. It’s a lot of pressure. A stressful time when everything good about our life, and yes, everything bad too, is magnified by the colorful lights of season and longer cold, dark nights.
I have been feeling the stress. I should be holly, jolly and bright this time of year. But I’m not.
I have found myself dreading the impending ‘big day’, enduring the the onslaught of commercial reminders, season’s greetings, yard decoration wars and annual work parties where we’re all expected to act like a big happy family. I put on a good face, smile, return festive salutations and act like a Who from Whoville.
And then it dawned on me. If I’m putting on a happy face, soldiering through, is it possible others are too? What if we’re all just hoping our smiles don’t betray how fragile we’re feeling inside?
If you’re struggling, a word of encouragement…you’re not alone. Be kind to yourself. Give yourself permission to opt out of the festivities, or not. It’s okay whatever you decide to do.
We’ve made a mess of this holiday. The collective we, that is. Bigger, better, more…and then some. It’s never enough. Perfection? It’s a myth.
I wish you peace. Not world peace. I wish YOU peace.
Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 17 December 2017
life springing forth
brussel sprouts
there was magic once
of doubt gone missing
In a shocking turn of events
…these are rare times
eventide vespers
the day surrenders, dusking
homeland security at work
mishpocha from everywhere
‘tis the season of
never longing for more
to hope for
~ kat
I’ve noticed a trend in my poetry of late. I am generally easy-going and have even been accused of being too optimistic. That girl is still in there behind my baby-blues somewhere, but extreme times call for extreme measures, and in my case, poetry and prose. I am grateful to have a voice in the midst of the madness. It’s gets the scary thoughts out of my head. Sometimes I can even manage a bit of wit to soften the angst. But if I didn’t have words…I am sure I’d be a mess. I do find moments to take in the scenery. The good stuff. To snuggle my fur kids. To settle my spirit with a warm cup of tea. Though I take the state of our world very seriously, I don’t extend that intensity when it comes to myself. It’s always good to laugh at that face in the mirror when her brow becomes too furrowed.
like mercury colliding... 