3 things I celebrate

At this busy time of the year, I wish you a happy and safe festive season.

Over the years I’ve become increasingly aware of multifaceted celebrations that arise from personal beliefs. This was especially highlighted in the short period of time I spent living in the London several years ago.

Angel Wings, Islington, London. A beautiful sight when I first arrived.

Traditional notions

It came to light with a bang, literally, when London’s horizons sparkled with fireworks that celebrated Diwali and Eid. Many celebrations flashed across the sky for about a month around about October and November. They lit up tiny apartment backyards as close as my neighbour’s and those in the far distance.

I also learnt how strange particular customs are to some. I distinctly recall how amazed one student was in a south London school. He exclaimed, It can’t be Christmas if it doesn’t snow! I’d just shared about how we celebrated in Western Australia in our blistering heat.

Another child asked what would happen if Santa wasn’t real. He was struggling with whole notion of the jolly character. Would he get any presents? So much of what I’d been raised with and took for granted was utterly new to some students.

Festival-mania

With festivals so commonplace in our city now – whether they are religious or not – there is an ongoing and heightened hype to be on the bandwagon of selling and buying. Selling to celebrate. Buying to celebrate.

I know I am not alone in ruing the commercialized demise of the simplicity of celebrating one’s beliefs, whatever they may be.

With the tradition of family getting together, and exchanging gifts that are supposedly meant to  represent the gift of life given by the central figure of the Christian tradition, I see less joy and more stress in so many people’s eyes as they comply with current expectations to give as they pile their shopping trolleys high.

Festive Fun at Hyde Park

So what do I celebrate at this time of the year?

(i) I celebrate family

As a family we choose to celebrate this traditional festive time throughout the year. If we see a little something another might like and if it is affordable, we may buy the gift and give it to the person next time we see them – no expectations though. I hear fervent traditionalists decry the notion, yet I know it means we focus on the spirit of love throughout the year and let the commercialism slide away.

At this time of the year we make a point of catching up with those we haven’t seen recently. We give a little something – often a long held hug – if we haven’t seen each other for some time.

For those who cannot travel to join us on tradition’s designated days we make a point of catching up throughout the year, as often as possible and we remind each other how much we are loved.

If visits are not possible for whatever reason, we keep in touch through the ever-convenient channels open to us these day via social media. This is my last recourse but in some instances it’s the only way we can be in touch to let a family member or friend know we are thinking of them.

From London snow to Australian heat – social media closes the distance

(ii) I celebrate friendships

In the bustle and flurry of everyday life I seek to slow down and remember those whose paths have crossed my life. The festive season is a good opportunity to send that note of thanks or to simply say ‘hi’ and let that person know I am thinking about them. Some may slip through the net and I can only hope they are the ones I’ve been in touch with throughout the year.

(iii) I celebrate as I take stock

-not of the contents of supermarket shelves but of how fortunate I am to have family and friends who I love in my life. I am grateful for another year with family and friends and for the opportunities that come my way. I celebrate my journey in life.

As I quietly celebrate this festive season

I wish you good health and happiness

peace of heart and mind

much joy

throughout the year to come

and the next one

and the next …


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Broken Lens

In a year forever imprinted on my mind, and more significantly, in my soul, I will always remember the year of the broken lens: the year that I now know to be my own ‘spiritual awakening’.

Just over a couple of years ago I was talking with an acquaintance who commented, ‘You always seem so… ‘ and then she paused. As she looked down, I heard the unspoken ‘together’ in her mind.

I wanted to say, in response, that while I had always been ‘together’ in the past, I was aware at that point in time, that my life as I knew it had begun to crumble. The lens through which I was accustomed to viewing all that went on in my life, was breaking.

Moments and steps along the way

All my life I’ve been aware of a spiritual dimension. It’s been something I’ve taken for granted. It was a powerful presence after my father’s death many years ago. And when my mother passed away a couple of years ago, it was a time of increased understanding of the power of presence, of the healing touches to the soul’s longing for understanding of what happens at the transition between worlds – the physical and the next world.

In the years before and between those events there were significant moments of heightened awareness, usually associated with a deep need for something beyond me to alleviate a sense of being very alone.

I grew up in the wheat-belt. Farmlands reaching to the horizon bring a deep sense of peace.

Love and warmth

I was a teen, attending university. One holiday, I chose to travel from the city to the coastal town of Albany, in Western Australia and stay with my grandmother. It was a rare visit, and one I recall for the significant experience I had there. My grandmother held a very strong conviction of God’s presence in her life. I knew this, as she often talked about God as if He was simply there, that He understood us and so on. Perhaps that is why I sought her out that holiday.

The city was a terrifyingly huge place in which I felt very lost and alone. Brought up in the central wheat-belt of WA, isolated on a farm, to be thrust into a lifestyle of living with a stranger as a landlady, no family and hundreds of students whom I did not know on campus, I was very frightened.

City living and a busy campus were daunting.

The comfort of a grandmother’s warmth and love would be and was reassuring. Yet, more profoundly on that holiday, when I asked God if He could just show me that He was real, and that I wasn’t alone, I recall the warmth of love that filled my small bedroom and the golden glow I sensed with it. I was held in that love, and it filled me with a reassurance I so badly needed at the time.

So why the significant shift barely 12 months ago?

Over the years, I lost sight of listening to my intuition. I struggled to understand what I had to do: how to live. I had never known ‘how to’ and used to ask God to guide me, and just leave it to the universe to do so. I’d step into my day and follow what arose, choosing the most comfortable path. Gradually, however, over the years, I slipped into uncertainty and couldn’t hear my inner voice, or whatever intuitive guidance was being offered. My life became unstuck. My lens broke into pieces and shattered itself far and wide.

I could state the circumstances at the time. Yet, to add any weight to one situation, event or person is not really the point. It is what happened when I crumbled. That was the most terrifying experience of my life.

I had reached out many times over asking others for insight. Some heard this as me asking for help. It was and it wasn’t! If they chose to help, fine, so long as it fitted my need. And that’s the thing. Insightful people knew instinctively that my journey was my own, and ‘help’ as it is often termed, is not what is needed or wanted.

What I wanted the most was insight on how to live my life. I got none until after the night that I will term, in words often quoted, ‘the dark night of the soul’.

What was significant about that night?

Years of losing sight of what my intuition was and living according to my own decisions left me exhausted. I forgot how to prioritize caring for myself, and always put others first. I knew no other way. In hindsight, my efforts to be selfless were in fact, often misled and selfish, though not always. Seen as a caring person, I thrived on doing for others.

Problems in personal life were thought about on an endless loop. Overthinking, always questioning what I did, believing I could do better, led to utter exhaustion.

I forgot to take care of my personal health, insofar as I became physically exhausted as well. Deficiencies in my mostly vegetarian diet led unwittingly to low iron counts and I became seriously depleted of energy. Confusion clouded my thoughts. I’ve learnt a lot since!

How do I convey the impact of that night?

It seems superficial to commit these thoughts about a process that was deeply significant. It was uniquely my experience, yet others may resonate with some aspects and maybe there will be an aha for someone who has questions about their own experience.

What happened in my body

One of the weirdest and most frightening things that happened is I felt as though my inner organs were being pushed around inside my body. It was like clothes in a washing machine. An intense need to allay my mounting fear arose. I wanted to talk with someone who I knew had experienced this sort of thing, but she wasn’t available. Desperate to understand it, to know what to do.

I simply curled up in bed and held myself to find some comfort, unsure if my body was going to implode or explode! My whole body hurt and ached. For me it was worse pain than childbirth, something I’d done twice without painkillers! Looking back, the only explanation I can arrive at is that energy was trapped in my body and needed releasing. I recall lots of crying. Eventually I fell asleep, and when I woke up, my whole world was different. It was quiet. My body was still. My mind was still. This sense of stillness in me was something I’d not had before.

Over the next few months

I gradually made sense of what happened. My whole world took on a new outlook. I began to listen to Eckhart Tolle and found his teachings resonated with me. I know that what I experienced is termed a ‘spiritual awakening’.

While I had many mini awakenings during my life, (and I’d like to think that if I’d stayed the course, it may have been a far gentler experience! Who knows?!) it is nevertheless, what happened and is part of my life now.

I am on a very different path now to what I had been. It is filled with peace. And as time moves on from that night, I know I am grateful for the connection to the universe that I now have. I know it will never shift. From this there is no going back. It was not a mini moment like the moment in the bedroom as a frightened teen. This experience changed me forever. My lens is no longer broken. I no longer see life through rose-coloured glasses, nor through a jaded green lens. My new lens is now crystal clear and I am deeply grateful as I now see how to live life with greater clarity.

I may don a pair of sunglasses now, but the image is crystal clear!

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