The Advent of Craziness

Class, please settle down and take out your copy of Soundings. It’s time to read the most wise and timely poem of the great Patrick Kavanagh.

If ever words were needed to be heard throughout the globe I suggest these are they. ‘Through a chink too wide, there comes in no wonder’, or as my father used to put it ‘sure ye have Christmas everyday’.

Last week I found myself with a mixum gatherum range of events that was shaping up to be a head melt. There was work, with a few cover shifts I’d agreed to weeks ago and now resented hugely. There were extra commitments with choir for festive performances. There was a looming medical check-up that was sending catastrophic scenarios to my imagination. There was a women’s night out that, because it was for me and not others, felt like I could ditch it to catch my breath. There was the funeral on Mr B’s Godmother. Hours later there was a panto to go to, a treat for a pal’s son and my inner child. I felt something had to give, and my sanity looked like being the casualty. I rang a pal who I’d arranged a craft afternoon with and downloaded all my stress onto her. I said I really do want to hang out but I think I might be about to have a heart attack.

I’d say the test of a good friend is the kind of response you get to such an outburst. She got it immediately and reassured me that everyone feels overwhelmed in these weeks but it’s only the brave ones who admit it. She gave me umpteen opportunities to cancel but I knew if there was one thing my mental health needed that day it was to be with someone as grounded as her.

Prior to speaking to her I had crazy plans of bringing wool and making pom poms, I imagined first watching a YouTube video to remember how to actually make pom poms. I’d envisaged picking up a nice panettone to have with sherry while we crafted, but all these flights of fancy faded as I reclaimed my grip on reality and sanity again. We had a lovely couple of creative hours making wreaths, that were imperfect but all the better for it.

Today’s pre-Christmas season pushes us into greater and greater activity which goes directly against our body’s natural search for balance at this time. For many this will set off a chain of irritations like an allergic reaction to all this forced and false busyness. The challenge is to say no to the frenzy and come back into natural alignment.

We are approaching the Winter Solstice a word which comes from the Latin Sol sistere which means the sun stands still. In Irish this is expressed beautifully as grianstad. So how can we find stillness amid the noise. We will receive cards depicting white Christmas scenes, where a fall of snow covers the brokenness of the world and presents it as whole and beautiful. Many years ago, I was put on happy pills that took the shaken snow globe of my fragmented mind and brought it to exquisite silent peace. Sadly, they came with some unpleasant side effects, so I didn’t take them for too long, but just remembering the mental hush they brought makes me wistful. I still yearn for that blanket of deep quiet that draped itself over my psyche.

Returning to Kavanagh’s words he says ‘Wherever life pours ordinary plenty, won’t we be rich my love and I. That’s the nub of it all for me. Opting to feel gratitude for all we have versus an endless search for more. Choosing to cleanse and simplify rather than indulge and amplify.

I suppose step one in discovering peace this season is making peace with yourself. Finding time to reflect on what is out of whack and how much of that you can untangle or live with.

This advent I’ll be prioritising walks, timing them to get the max out of the soft winter daylight. Taking them in places of wonder and beauty, an added bonus would be a cosy coffee shop nearby. Likeminded souls are welcome to join me.