In this moment, as the snow blankets the world with its pristine whiteness, I crave curling up with a good book, a hot chocolate and a roaring fire. I crave simplicity. I crave comfort. I can clearly see that a busy life is a wasted life because we miss the moments that really count.
I’ve just started editing a new manuscript and it’s going to be a beautiful book, one I think I will order multiple copies of and send out to every woman I love. It’s a sweet mix of self-care, Ayurveda and our strength as women. It’s like magic for my soul right now. Allowing me to sink in and uncover the love for myself that can get hidden in the mess of appointments, difficult children, volunteer tasks and grocery shopping, along with the many many other things that have me running around fairly frantically on a day to day basis.
And this mess, it clouds my mind so easily. It hides the truth of self-love and soul-contentment that I desperately wish to be led by each day. But that is life. At least for me. It is a constant shifting from hustle to peace. From external to internal. There is no perfection available on this path. I need to keep bringing myself back to internal focus and strength – to a place of pure self-love. Whether it’s a particularly powerful yoga class or a reiki session with the amazing woman that I’m blessed to have in my town, or a beautiful book, or a good long talk with a girlfriend, I always need something to bring me back. Again and again. To remind me that I don’t need to get stuck in the busy, in the mindlessness.
And maybe the snow does that too. It requires us to slow down, to cuddle up and look inward. Yes, we can fight it and our modern culture often requires that of us, but when we don’t… when we see it as an opportunity to step away from the hustle and make soup while drinking tea with rosy cheeks after building a snowman… that is the gift it gives us.
We’re all about to go down the road of holiday craziness… and my dear American friends, you kick it off hardcore with Thanksgiving (and that very weird phenomenon called Black Friday). But no matter which country we call home, the next six weeks will be filled with parties, shopping, baking, decorating. Families will come to stay. Friends will stop by. Children will eat too many cookies and stay up too late. And it’s beautiful. I adore the holiday season, especially this year back in my hometown with hopes that it will be white. My town plays Christmas carols out of the town hall, filling the downtown streets with music. The street lights are decorated with wreaths and shop windows are decked. It’s true Canadian Christmas magic and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It’s just the extra glass of wine…
Or the 3rd late night in a row…
Or one more party with a dessert spread to make every sugar addict sink to their knees and thank the universe/lord/Allah/Jesus for the blessing.
Those get me. They throw me off. They push me away from this centre that I feel so good about when I’m in it. And so I need another reminder, another pull back to conscious soul-contentment: the right book, yoga class, a sweaty afternoon snowshoe. An experience. Because inspirational quotes flying past my eyes on Instagram just don’t make the cut. I need more, a stronger touch point.
So I’m starting the season with a proactive approach: I booked myself in for 3 yoga classes this week and aim to attend at least 2 each week through the season. I messaged a friend about a lunch date. I’ve got a plan for a women’s snowshoeing afternoon brewing in my head. And a lovely little Secret Santa potluck with some of my oldest besties. One of my holiday rituals, Molly Mahar’s Holiday Council, is on my calendar for 3 hours of serious me time to reflect and dream. I’ve signed up for a restorative yoga + vision boarding workshop just before New Year. I’ve told my sweetie that at least once a week I want to spend the evening just hanging out with him, talking or playing a board game. All that’s left is to decide which evening I cuddle up on the couch (solo) and watch Love Actually.
Amidst the to-do list, I’m choosing me. I’m choosing to honour this time. To treat myself well. To claim the space for my soul amidst the hustle and bustle because you know what? Inner peace/soul-contentment/self-love…. whatever you call it, it doesn’t just happen by itself. Nor is it something that happens once and then sticks around. It needs to be nourished. It needs to be cultivated.
That also means that when we lose it, when the hustle and bustle takes over, we can get it back. We can trust that it will be there waiting for us if we create the space and welcome it in. This holiday season, put your soul on the agenda too. Claim the space for it.