2. ‘Create pools of peace...’

Midwinter always brings with it the faint whiff of doom, but rarely more so than this year. Every time I check the news, it feels as though something else has collapsed, some other degradation has been visited on the world. It’s getting harder and harder to even look. The New Year looms like a gathering storm.

We have reached the dark, exhausted stump of the year, the brink of collapse. As the days shorten, we keep on working at the same pace, or maybe even harder as we try to close December in an orderly fashion. Meanwhile, all of social life accelerates, and we succumb to those winter viruses that like to fester in the dark.

It always feels like this, and always did. The year dies and brings us to our knees. Still, we continue to hurry, sniffing and griping, worrying about the hours with our families for which we are so assiduously planning. Soon it will all stop, not because we choose it, but because we can go no further. We have made a pact to all grind to the same halt.

We don’t yet know what the New Year will bring, but it will come. In the meantime, we have to face the hiatus in which not enough seems to be happening to soothe us. We check our social feeds as if we can give them enough of our energy to make them eject something good. Sadly, that is not how this works. We need, instead, to learn to soothe ourselves.

This is the difference between agency and control. We can’t make history bend our way by force; we can’t make our closest kin behave in the way we’d like. But we can marshal our own response. Even then, we have to be kind to ourselves; being human is more like painting with a broad brush than inking in the detail.

Here are some bright ideas for steering through the depths of midwinter.

One.

Create pools of peace this midwinter. Keep some calm time to yourself. Leave the heat of your house for a walk, or find a quiet room to read. Make something. Sit in silence with your eyes closed for just five minutes. Put yourself to bed early. Sleep. Make room for dreams.

Two.

Welcome your grief. It’s common for a sense of loss to rise up in us at this cold, haunting time of year. Instead of pushing it away, invite it in. Light a candle, get the old photos out, spend some time with your memories. Find a way to make your lost ones present in your home. You don’t have to pretend you’ve forgotten them.

Three.

Send the important cards. I gave up on motoring through masses of cards years ago; it’s meaningless and stressful. But I do like to send just a handful to the people I’d like to thank, or the people I’ll miss seeing. New Year cards are great by the way, written in the quiet midwinter days when the dust has settled. No need to catch the Christmas post.

Four.

Find an opportunity to reflect. Set aside some time with a notebook and pen, or walk and talk into a voice recorder. You don’t need to say anything clever or poetic. Just record the view from here, your unique perspective.

Five.

Don’t scrimp on cheer. In times of worry, it’s tempting to cut back on the signs of festivity. It’s a mis-step. We need our own culture more than ever at the moment. It’s not just comforting; it’s a framework to think in. You are allowed your exuberance, your excess. Puritanism is not the solution to a runaway world.

I’m now signing off for the midwinter period - except I have a post lined up for you at the end of next week, something to keep you busy in the quiet days before New Year, if you want it. I’ll see you in January.

Thank you for being here this year, for reading the words I can’t stop writing, and for being so thoughtful and kind in response. I wish you a blanket of midwinter quiet. Take care.

Katherine