Let’s begin with what is real.
There’s a chocolate factory, fit for a fairytale, nestled into the emerald foothills of the Burren Mountains in Ireland. Gluten-free, organic pastries tantalize from the onsite cozy café, and the hot chocolate of one’s childhood dreams is elegantly presented with a generous dollop of whip cream.
Hazel Mountain Chocolate, christened the most remote chocolate factory in the world.
There’s a treehouse in Rwanda that resides within a lush jungle, beckoning travelers to become untethered from the mundane and elevate their internal mindscape.
Bisate Lodge, Rwanda; photo courtesy of Kim Anami
There’s a burning-of-the-yule holiday party that’s been going twelve years strong in Lexington, Kentucky. Friends, families, and loved ones gather around a fire underneath the coming-of-winter stars. The host directs our merry attention to the Jupiter, the planet of luck and good fortune. Each guest receives a twig of holly, to represent the past year, and then throws it into the fire to release the old and make space for the new. Christmas songs are sung from memory, and when lyrics are forgotten, humming fills in.
Wintry Wonder; Courtesy of Pinterest
This is real.
As is the joy, a lightness of being, that envelopes me after I pitch in my voice to a few jolly rounds of “Jingle Bells.” I press onward into the neighborhood where houses are laced with lights and lavishly decorated Christmas trees regale wreathed windows. As I drive into the glittering darkness, that joyous serenity travels with me, revitalizing a prayer gifted to me on my birthday eve.
May I be with what is real.
Real is my spirit-word for my 33rd year. A spirit-word is a beacon of guidance, and this year, real is my life-line, my inner lighthouse. Real initiates the homecoming to my ever-present body and softens me into receiving the gift of being alive, right here and right now.
This is a wild time to be alive here on earth. But I chose to be here. The spark of my soul knew to come at this pivotal time here on earth, and maybe yours did, too. I choose to be here. Let the wild of the times rewild me … meaning let all the conditioning, people-pleasing, false beliefs and interpretative narratives unfurl and surface into the light of consciousness. The witnessing is the shift, from darkness to light, from asleep to awake, from forgetfulness to remembering.
Toss all that does not serve to the flames. Let it alchemize and activate deeper compassion and discernment. Let me become reacquainted with my own wildness of my feminine nature, my human nature, my connection to mama nature, my true nature.
The burning of the yule is an ancient tradition. Circling around the fire as night descended like a blanket around us, my instincts heighten. My ancestry comes online. I know this. In the waters of my all-knowing body there are memories of my ancestors, of humans who knew how to be humans, who knew they were nature and lived in rhyme with the seasons. They rejoice that I have joined their circles, have taken hold of their hands, and that I too sing with them through the dark with the unwavering faith that the longest night of the year will end with the promised sunrise.
This is real.
As are the tears that I spill over coffee and emails. Browsing through my gmail, I accidentally encounter an email unexpectedly depicting an image that shocks and upsets my nervous system. I sob right into my coffee and stare helplessly at my computer screen. I fall into a bleak narrative about the collective (un)consciousness of humankind. I thrash between despair and indignant outrage. My mind leaps to self-admonish … because I am not doing enough, and what do I need to do?
“Not doing enough.” Something about that phrase snapped awake my inner witness. Doing is the red-flag. And not enough … please, I’ve watched too many Brene Brown videos to let my inner critic weaponize that one on me!
And there (and this is real) grace somehow finds me: I return to what is real.
I notice the twinkle lights woven through ropes of pine outlining the living room’s fireplace. Sunlight dances on the leaves outside. I hear the rhythmic breathing of my golden retriever who is napping nearby. I watch his stomach rise and fall, deep and full breaths.
I grant my emotions space to breathe. I honor my emotions, not through getting lost in them, but by feeling the sensations within my body with acceptance and heart-centering ease.
And the answer about what I need to do arises … and this is real, too.
Just be.
Be a presence of peace.
And for a second, my mind argues, but then a deeper knowing calms my mind and I relax back into the throne of the moment.
Real change happens when there is a shift in consciousness. Aligned action arises from embodied presence. Returning to what is real creates spaciousness between me and my thoughts, enough so that I remember that I am not my thoughts, and extends the invitation to pause. And there is power in the pause.
The pause purges reactivity, purifies response and propels empowered action.
Protect your amygdala, counsels one email on a separate morning. I ruefully think of its advice after the image bombardment.
Our attention is a precious resource. Where our thoughts go, energy flows. I do think there are forces that purposefully want us spinning from one emotional reaction to the next. To be caught in that loop of reactivity, to be in heightened nervous system state, which is not an embodied and empowered place to be. It’s not where change happens. It’s where fear breeds and fear-motivated reaction occurs.
I’m not denying that there are injustices, sorrows and suffering in this world. That is real. I studied human rights in college, with a specific focus on human trafficking happening locally, and I worked for a domestic violence organization, sometimes spending holidays in the shelter with the women and the children. I’ve witnessed some of the ugliest aspects of humanity. I also saw enough light in those very gritty and desolate corners – in the hearts of survivors, in the tremendous dedication of advocates, attorneys and law enforcement -- to keep the faith.
When I reflect on those social workers and human rights attorneys, they all have something in common: joy.
They were not lost in the darkness because it would render them ineffective, it would obscure their vision – which needs to be clear and focused. They were not righteous and none of them have a strong social media presence. The depth of their compassion was astounding and the fierceness in their convictions inspiring. I was always slightly starstruck by them, but mostly by how approachable they all were and generous with their time, how very real.
I share this because … these people are real, and they do real good work in this world.
And I believe that the reason they are effective is that they are embodied and steady within themselves. We all have natural highs and lows, but we also live in this tech age where the portals to horror are a click away on our computer screens, a scroll away on our phones.
Protecting our amygdala nourishes our resiliency.
And when we do come across something in the news, or a friend has decided to become a news-anchor and shares something on social media, returning to what is real soothes the amygdala.
Returning to what is real in this moment actually strengthens our capacity and breath-emboldened clarity to engage with news and information thoughtfully, and then, if we are moved to, initiate intentional action.
And let’s be real … a regulated, healthy nervous system is one of the best gifts we can give to ourselves and to humanity.
So as we move into this holy season, remember what is real, and return to it often.
The earth beneath our feet, the waters that run deep, the flow of the breath, the permeating stillness underneath layers of sound.
You can reflect on a few of mine, too, I share because they are real …
There’s a whimsical chocolate factory folded into the mystical lushness of the Burren Mountains that makes decadent, organic Irish chocolate bars.
There are treehouses in Rwanda, Thailand and South Africa that offer new adventures, new realities.
There’s a group of Lexingtonians who bundle up in coats and hats unite around a fire and sing carols into the dark like our ancestors have done for thousands of years. This connection to life, to cycles and seasons, to the ones who have gone before and to the ones who are here … this is real.