To slightly misquote Dickens, the holiday season is the best of times and the worst of times. Whilst parties and gift giving are always a joy, the time itself often churns up a sea of less happy emotion. Our reunions are often missing some of the people we love best, either because of distance or their loss.
My boys are thousands of miles away and though I am delighted at the amazing technology behind video calls, our Christmas meetings are a mere simulacra of the real thing. At this time of year, I miss my brother too. He may have died 33 years ago, but his absence still pains me.
And I know I am not alone in these sentiments. Few of us will be lucky enough not to have any sorrow at this time whether brought about by grief, anxiety, loneliness or depression.
Words of wisdom
Whilst scrolling through Netflix documentaries for our Ukrainian, Mariia, I spotted one called Mission Joy starring Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama. (For more information check out https://missionjoy.org/) That looked like just what we needed, so I paused to let her see it and yes, she chose it.
This year will be our second Christmas together. While we love her company, and I’m sure we’ll have a cheerful celebration, we are acutely aware that she is unable to go home to her own family. Since the Dalai Lama is also a refugee, I felt his words might give comfort.
Despite coming from very different religious backgrounds, the two men were very much in agreement about what brings joy into our lives. Each had suffered, yet each was full of the most sparkling of spirits.
What they said was not entirely new to me. Upon my diagnosis, I felt the whole world fall away. My old life was gone and my future looked very bleak indeed. What saved me was finding the Overcoming Multiple Sclerosis programme. In it were suggestions to tend to both my mind and my body and this led me to the revelatory book Full Catastrophe Living by Jon Kabat-Zinn.
Here was someone who acknowledged that life is usually full of challenge and difficulty and rather than shying away from the fact, actively embraced it. For within catastrophe can be found hope. I did my homework and discovered what he said was true.
Revision
That was eight years ago and I think I was ready for a refresh and Mission Joy did just that. So I’d like to give a very brief precis of their words coupled with my own experience. Life is never easy. We are all walking wounded. Acknowledging that is, I believe, the first step towards healing.
Reframing
The Dalai Lama gave great credit to this activity. Our minds, after all, determine our reality, so if we are able to shift our focus, to ‘reframe’ the moment or event, we may be able to see it as a point of opportunity rather than a dead end.
Being diagnosed with a chronic condition would seem like a catastrophe, but it has opened up my world in the most amazing ways. I may not be able to work, but I now have time to write and create; I may not be able to walk far, but each step feels like a miracle. My appreciation for everything has multiplied a hundred fold and gratitude is definitely the route to happiness.
Contemplation
Finding a time for quiet, prayer or meditation is vital to still our crazy ‘monkey minds’. This is especially true in the lead up to Christmas where lists seem to give birth to lists with Malthusian consequences.
Following Zinn’s suggestions, I learned to seriously meditate: forty minutes a day for eight weeks. It was hard work, but bit by bit my anxiety about the future was quelled and my capacity for hope increased. Though I confess to being a bit lax on the formal meditation side at the moment, I do ensure that I have quiet times each day to simply be and let go of my worries.
But don’t take my word for it. The science clearly supports the calming effects of contemplation. It brings many other benefits too including increasing resilience and with that physical well-being.
The catch? There’s always a catch. To enjoy these benefits you have to commit whole-heartedly to daily practice – even if that is only five minutes at first. Like physical strength, it requires a regular workout.
When suffering does you good
I doubt this part is going to be very popular. None of us like to suffer and I hope none of us like to see others suffer either. However, suffering is often the route to compassion.
Tutu used the example of Nelson Mandela who began as a man of violence and ended a man of peace. His suffering in the notorious Robben Island penal colony might have inflamed his anger, but instead sparked compassion. The transition to black African rule might have been fraught with bloodshed, but under Mandela’s guidance, was one of peace.
Compassion literally means ‘to suffer with’. If we do not know suffering, it is very difficult to imagine it. It also is taken to mean having motivation to alleviate that condition. In other words, unlike pity, it is an active emotion.
My less than pleasant experiences with MS and cancer and bereavement have had the unexpected benefit of enabling me to understand much more clearly how others feel in those circumstances. With that, I hope my words and actions reflect that and the recipient does not feel pitied but rather supported in their journey.
Finding joy
For joy is to be found not within ourselves but as a by-product of giving. Tutu said, ‘ Joy is the reward we receive for giving joy to others.’ That is a philosophy that I can certainly stand by.
Modern society focuses on the individual and the satisfaction of his or her desires as the path to happiness. Unsurprisingly, the world has never been more depressed.
This is not to say that we give up all the things we love. There are good selfish and negative selfish emotions. The Dalai Lama suggested that good selfishness ensures that you take care of yourself. Negative selfishness is when you obtain your objective at the expense of others.
A balance needs to be struck between these two.
For my part, joy is bundled with love. If we take the Christmas message to love one another and show good will to all men, we will have a very joyful Christmas indeed – regardless of how life has treated us.