S3 Ep7 IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER: Pausing, honouring, remembering

This week's episode is dedicated to those we love and miss, to encourage us all – me included – to take all the time we need to feel all the things we are going to feel in the days ahead. I hope you find this episode to be a comfort.  

Of course I am not going to tell you how to be or what to do as you face Christmas without a loved one, or face it carrying any other sense of grief. What I am going to do is share some ideas for pausing, honouring and remembering our loved ones, along with some gentle advice from people who work with bereaved families, and some beautiful poems and readings which I hope will offer us some comfort.

In March this year my lovely mum was diagnosed with terminal cancer out of the blue, and died in a hospice three weeks later. I was by her side for nearly all of that time. It was devastating in its brevity and impact, but it was also just about enough time for us to leave nothing unsaid. We talked about Christmas, and she gave me some ideas for this season of the podcast, particularly for this episode. When I think about that now, I am floored by her bravery and selflessness, and the way that in having those conversations, she has managed to give us a Christmas gift this year too. I hope this episode will give you an opportunity to pause, honour and remember those you love and miss, and find some joy and light in this darkest of seasons.

This episode includes: 

• Gentle ideas for pausing, honouring and remembering those we love and miss
• A beautiful ritual for connecting with the memory and light of a loved one (you might want to bring a candle, some matches, a notebook and a pen)
• How the Five Stories of Christmas can help us feel close to our loved ones
• Permission not to have a ‘happy Christmas’
• Some gorgeous poems and readings
• A writing prompt to help you get your feelings down on paper
• A lovely craft idea
• Christmas traditions from around the world (from lovely listeners!)
• Our nature corner, welcoming the Winter Solstice
• Get ahead tips before Christmas is upon us
• And a blessing for you
• PLUS A self-care giveaway (enter on my Instagram @bethkempton)

With inspiration from:

@donnaashworthwords @optionb @andygrammer @stoswaldsuk @joannemallon Bertolt Brecht, Sarah Crossnan, Dana Gioia, @sheep1sh Neil Astley, Pamela Robertson-Pearce, Phillis Levin, @thehungryyear Kevin Young, Ashley Muller, @glass_walls_life Austie M Baird, Cherie Arnitt, @warsanshiree @williamsieghart, Robert Frost, @lydiamillen @lia_leendertz @rebeccacampbell_author @katecbowler, John O’Donohue

Leave a note remembering your loved one on the self-care giveaway post on my Instagram @bethkempton here. https://instagram.com/bethkempton

You can find all the show notes including to all featured books here.

Handy links:

·      The Life-Changing Magic of Writing Haiku (free essay on my Substack) 

·      St Oswald’s Hospice donation link (where Brenda works) 

·      Escape to a cosy world of words in my Winter Writing Sanctuary (FREE) December 28-January 6 

 This week’s giveaway

·      Chance to win some lovely self-care goodies and a personalized signed copy of my book Calm Christmas and a Happy New Year over on @bethkempton on Instagram

Beth Xx

Transcript

Episode 7 IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER: Pausing, remembering, honouring

The lights won’t chase the darkness 

you left behind 

but I put them up and try anyway 

the present I’m unwrapping 

won’t make me smile 

knowing you’re not here 

on Christmas Day

The songs we sang together 

won’t bring you near 

for their not sung in the way 

you used to do 

there’s a world so very full 

of Yuletide cheer 

but that world is not the same 

without you

There’s a log in the fire 

burning merrily along 

but the wine in my hand 

has no taste 

there’s a tree twinkling fiercely 

with such festive joy 

but I fear all this joy 

will go to waste

There’s a space at my table 

that’s set for you

 there’s a joke you always told 

which waits in vain 

there’s a hole in my heart 

which never seems to mend 

but nonetheless when I toast

Welcome to Episode 7 of the Calm Christmas Podcast. My name is Beth Kempton, and this episode is called In the Bleak Midwinter: Pausing, honoring and remembering. That beautiful poem was Christmas Day by Donna Ashworth, from her gorgeous book Loss: Poems to better weather the many waves of grief,[1] a book that has never been far from my side for much of this year.

I was moved to dedicate a whole episode to those we love and miss, to encourage us all – me included – to take all the time we need to feel all the things we are going to feel in the days ahead.

I hope you find this episode to be a real comfort, but of course it might also bring up some of those feelings for you here and now, today, and that is totally okay. You might want to listen at a time that you can relax and won’t be interrupted – in a hot bath, or out on a walk perhaps. It’s also ok to pause it at anytime if it gets too much, and come back later. If you find that you have to do that, I encourage you to take out a notebook and write down whatever wants to spill out, or have a chat with someone, or make a cup of tea, and take some deep breaths, perhaps head outside for a while. As you will know, there is no right way to do this.

In March this year my lovely mum was diagnosed with terminal cancer out of the blue, and died in a hospice three weeks later. I was by her side for nearly all of that time. It was devastating in its brevity and impact, but it was also just about enough time for us to leave nothing unsaid. We talked about Christmas, and she gave me some ideas for this season of the podcast, particularly for this episode. When I think about that now, I am floored by her bravery and selflessness, and the way that in having those conversations, she has managed to give us a Christmas gift this year too.   

One of the things we talked about was how Christmas is a constant marker in our lives, tracking the ageing process, bringing different joys and challenges each time round. It reminded me of one particular Christmas lunch when I was a teenager.

It’s at Christmas time that I most notice the changing shape of things. We are gathered for Christmas lunch. My grandma is in her favourite over-the-knee tweed skirt and the high-necked powder-blue blouse she saves for best. She’s not really with it these days, pottering in the margins of dementia, but she’s here today. She moved in next door a few years back, when it got too much to live in a big old house up north all by herself. When she came here she told everyone her name was Mary, even though it is actually Morag. She thought it would be easier to remember, but I couldn’t help wondering if she had left a little of herself in her old house on Manor Way. Mary-Morag laughs easily through her confusion, limply pulls a cracker, and looks excited about lunch.

My mother is in the kitchen, hands in fat oven gloves holding a tray of roast potatoes. Crispy on the outside, fluffy as dreams in the middle. Cheeks pink from the heat, or the pride, she’s glad her brood isn’t bickering today. On the one day of the year we’re allowed to eat anything we want, all we want is Christmas dinner. Dad carves. I stand at the stone dividing wall between the kitchen and the dining space, ready to deliver steaming promise to the table, which is laid carefully with a green cloth and candles.

I pause for a moment and take in the scene. My beloved grandma, snuffling under her party hat as the sherry takes effect. She won’t be in that chair for many more dinners, and I wonder what she is thinking. My brothers act cool, but they are not too cool for Christmas. Soon we’ll have our heads in exams, then be off to uni and into our own lives, with boyfriends and girlfriends and spouses and children of our own. I watch Mum and Dad laughing about something, blurred at the edges by the cloud of steam from the turkey, and think that they won’t always be this young. I wonder if they feel the shifting shape of the family, too.

My mum reminded me that it’s important for us to recognize both our blessings and all the things we feel are missing at this time of year. Many of us are grappling with physical losses, and many more are grappling with the loss of people they love who are physically still here, but through ageing or illness don’t have the same capacity to participate as they might have once had. There is also grief for the kinds of Christmases we wanted which we don’t have, for all kinds of reasons. If any of these is familiar, or if someone you know is suffering in this way, then this episode is for you.

I am not going to tell you how to be or what to do as you face Christmas without a loved one, or face it carrying any other sense of grief. I have no idea, although I’m pretty sure there isn’t a right way to be or right thing to do. This is my first Christmas without my mother. We are all facing this together. What I am going to do is share some ideas for pausing, honouring and remembering our loved ones, along with some gentle advice from people who work with bereaved families, and some beautiful poems and readings which I hope will offer us some comfort.

If you are listening soon after this episode has gone live, I have opened up a space on my Instagram account @bethkempton for you to leave a tribute to those you love and miss this year. Please do come and share a name, and a memory, or a few words about them, so we can all hold them, and you, in our thoughts this Christmastime. It is easy to find the post because it is related to this week’s giveaway. I am offering a lovely bundle of goodies to support you in finding a quiet moment to pause, reflect and honour those you love and miss, including a beautiful candle from Cornish candlemaker @stevalcandles, some Dark Moon Tea from @tarnandmoon, a personalized, signed copy of my book Calm Christmas and a Happy New Year and a free place on my writing course Words Heal. To enter just go to Instagram @bethkempton, find the giveaway post in my feed, and leave a comment about whoever you want us to hold in our thoughts this year.

So today we are talking about pausing, honouring and remembering.

PAUSING

Taking time away from the festive noise and chaos to simply pause, and be with all our thoughts and feelings about who and what is absent, and who and what is present.

Let’s do this together right now. Find a candle, and something to light it with, and a notebook and pen, and meet me back here. Please take care with the fire! 

If you are listening out on a walk, imagine me lighting the candle for you – perhaps find a quiet place to sit leaning against a tree or by a river, or on a park bench. I am going to guide you through a gentle meditation, with some periods of silence. It does not matter if you have never meditated before, I’ll let you know what to do, and you can’t get it wrong. At the end of the meditation I will read you a few words by veteran yoga teacher Judith Hanson Lassiter[2].

Find a space where you won’t be disturbed. Place your candle about 20 inches away from you, sit tall and take a moment to centre yourself. Put your dominant hand on your heart and take a few deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the nose. Slow your breathing down, and focus on the heat between your hand and your heart. Stay here for a few breaths.

Open your eyes and light your candle. Cross your hands over your heart, and watch the candle. Keep breathing naturally and steadily. See the light dance and flicker, count the colours of the flame, keep your gaze steady. If your mind wanders just bring it back to the flame.

Now keeping your hands crossed over your heart space. imagine that the light of the flame is alive in the space beneath your hands. The candle flame is a symbol of the love you carry, all the love you have received and all the love you have to give. Keep watching the flame, and feel the heat beneath your hands.

Allow yourself to bring your loved one to mind. Imagine the light in your heart reaching out through time and space to wherever you believe them to be. Keep breathing, keep your hands on your heart, keep watching the flame. Feel the connection between you.

“I hope that in the midst of these turbulent times, and the hustle and bustle of the year’s end rituals and activities, we all find the courage to step into the space of silence. That state is the only place where we can listen and absorb the wisdom that permeates us, and the world, at every minute. I know it can sometimes bring unexpected emptiness and loneliness. If you experience any of these feelings know that they are always only ever invitations back to the heart. If you have loved and lost and are missing significant others, may it lead you back to the heart. If you feel empty or lonely, may it lead you back to the heart. May we soften to that which has hardened us this year.” 

May we soften, may we soften, may we soften.

As your ready slowly bring your awareness back to the room know that you can return to this meditation and this connection, anytime you like.

If you like, pause the audio and write a few words in your journal. Spill whatever wants to be written. Please remember to blow out your candle when you are ready.

There are many other ways to create a pause. It might look like a long walk, or staring at the waves at the shore, journaling by the Christmas tree, lying in savasana on your yoga mat. I often put my right hand over my heart and breath deeply. Somehow this never fails to bring a moment of peace, and help me feel more connected to whatever is bubbling up. Of course do whatever feels good to you. If you want to cry, cry. 

According to Joanne Mallon, author of How to Find Calm in Five Minutes, “If you feel tears welling up, don’t hold back. Crying releases stress and emotional pain. You’ll feel calmer after crying for very simple biological reasons. Researchers have established that crying releases oxytocin and endogenous opioids, also known as endorphins. These feel-good chemicals help ease both physical and emotional pain. Tears are a stress reliever, with studies finding that over 50 per cent of people reported an improved mood after crying.”[3]

There’s a famous quote attributed to Isak Dinesen, the pen name of Danish author Karen Blixen, which goes “The cure for anything is salt water – tears, sweat, the sea.” I’m not sure it’s a cure, but it sure helps.

Sometimes I write poetry and it helps. Here’s one I wrote for my #tinyautumnpoem ten minute poetry challenge back in November:

Firewood by Beth Kempton

The old Zen master cautioned

That it is not wood before and ash after,

It is just wood residing

In the dharma position of wood

And ash just being ash,

But try as I might to understand him,

I couldn’t help wishing I had the power

To turn the ash back to wood

Undo the year,

Bring her back.

If you would like to try some poetry but don’t know where to start, you could try some wintery haiku. I recently wrote an essay about my love affair with haiku, which you can read for free at bethkempton.substack.com or via the link in the show notes[4]. It includes seasonal words to inspire you and some tips on how to write one. 

I also shared lots of ideas for retreating in Episode 2 earlier in this season of the podcast so please do go back and have a listen if you missed it.

HONOURING

To honour those we miss in our own particular way. 

Sometimes when you write books you have the strange experience of looking back to them for advice, and you often find it in the pages that you yourself wrote, as if your heart knew something years before your head really took it in. I often find the advice I need today in books I wrote last year, or several years ago. This is exactly what happened when it came to thinking about how I would honour my mum this Christmas. I turned to my book Calm Christmas and a Happy New Year, and reminded myself about the Five Stories of Christmas.

To give you a bit of background, when I was researching Calm Christmas, I became curious about which symbols of Christmas are universal as I thought they may give us something to rally around. I reached out to the hive mind of my online community and received hundreds of enthusiastic responses from all over the world. Yet I was surprised to learn from the many thousands of original data points that not one single element of the stereotypical Christmas is invariably applicable. Not everyone puts up a Christmas tree, or sings carols, or hopes for snow, or cooks a turkey, or exchanges gifts, or gathers with others to celebrate.

Nevertheless, it was clear that there is a pool of experiences from which we all seem to draw at least one memory that is closely associated with the season, often related to our senses. The sights, sounds, smells, tastes and textures of Christmases past linger in our hearts and inform our ideas of what it should be in the future. 

In the course of my research, I also discovered that the roots of our traditions are deeply buried in legend and lore, and that it is extremely hard to unearth accurate facts about the origins of Christmas. The history of this most famous festival is littered with so many contradictions, assumptions and unverifiable assertions that getting to the truth of it all is challenging. 

In speaking to people from all walks of life, of all ages and backgrounds, I discovered one salient truth: every Christmas is unique, like a snowflake. Each one is a carefully constructed, complex narrative that has formed as Christmas has whirled across time and geography, down family lineages, through television and social media feeds, and around our kitchen tables. No two are ever the same, either from year to year or from person to person. We need to slow down and get up close to see the complex and particular beauty of each one.

Reaching out to my online community for their thoughts on Christmas whipped up a veritable snowstorm of memories and beliefs. However, when the flakes finally started to settle, a pattern emerged: all of the respondents seemed to value and identify with at least one of five essential stories of Christmas. These are tales of faith, magic, connection, abundance and heritage that have been told and retold for generations. Our personal connection to each of them offers a snapshot of what Christmas means to each of us at a particular moment in our lives. They provide clues to the triggers for our stress and the sources of our joy. They offer a framework for understanding our individual, deep-rooted views of Christmas and discerning what to hold on to and what to release.

And what I have recently realized is that not only does viewing Christmas through the lens of these five stories increase our understanding of each other, which can have a monumental, positive impact on our shared experience of holidays – it is also a wonderful way to figure out how best to honour those we love and miss.

You can find a full explanation of the Five Stories and how to use them in my book Calm Christmas, but let me share enough to get you thinking today. Take out your notebook, and think about the person you want to honour this year. As I reference each of the five stories, rate on a scale of 0-10 how important that story was to your person. 

·      1 The Story of Faith is the biblical story of Christmas. 

·      2 The Story of Magic is the story of Father Christmas, or whatever name you know him by. It is the story of flying reindeer and a toy workshop full of elves.

·      3 The Story of Connection is the Charles Dickens/Victorian version, where people gather and share food and time around a Christmas tree, or around the table.

·      4 The Story of Abundance is the story of sharing our good fortune with others. In many ways this is the commercial side of Christmas, but it can also be a story of generosity.

·      5 The Story of Heritage is your family’s heirloom version of Christmas, the one that’s been handed down to you; perhaps blended with the heirloom versions of other people as your family trees combined. It is a carefully strained composite of all the geographical, ethnic and cultural influences you have received, grown up with or adopted over the course of many years – the inherited treasures and quirky traditions that link you directly to your family and childhood.

See which of the five stories came out top. It might be that two of them stood out. Use those stories as your guiding light to decide how to honour your person this year.

For example, in my mum’s case The Story of Faith mattered. She was not very religious but she loved the biblical story of Christmas – nativities, carol services and all of that. She always listened to Carols from Kings on BBC radio on Christmas Eve while prepping the vegetables, and one of my favourite ever memories is the two of us going to a candlelit carol service inside a cave called Peak Cavern in the Hope Valley.

So one of the ways I am going to honour her this year is to go to a candlelit carol service with my children, and to go to another alone, so I can cry into my hymn sheet without bothering anyone. 

For someone who loved The Story of Magic, you might decide to make secret parcel deliveries to people who are alone this year. For someone who loved The Story of Connection, you might re-read A Christmas Carol, and then make a real effort to bring together all the people who also miss that person this year.

Have a think about which story of Christmas might have been most important to your person, and make a plan to honour them in that way.

I also want to share something I saw on the Option B  Instagram account @OptionB which is a wonderful account founded by Sheryl Sandberg to help us all deal with grief and hardship. On it, singer Andy Grammer @andygrammer on Instagram talked about actively remembering his mother by spreading her love even when she isn’t here to do that. He felt that the best way to honour her was to carry on her legacy of generosity. Anytime the feelings bubble up, he takes it as a cue to go and do something for someone else. This might look like paying for a coffee for the person behind him in the queue, carrying someone’s shopping, letting someone else take the one parking space on the high street, striking up a friendly conversation with a stranger. Anything, that sends out a ripple of kindness just as his mother had always done in the way she lived. I think this is such a wonderful idea – to honour those we miss in a way that connects us with other people. 

REMEMBERING

To have conversations about them with others, allowing our collective remembering to bring their presence into our homes and hearts as we head into the holiday season. Perhaps doing something collectively to mark their absence, and the presence of their memory, when you are together.

Here are a few things we are doing in my house:

- I have made some baubles with photos of mum with each of the grandchildren, to go on our tree and the trees in the homes of my family.

- We have had a memorial bench installed in my mum’s favourite park, so me and my brothers and my dad are going to go there just before Christmas, and decorate it with solar powered fairy lights. We are going to take mulled wine in a flask and a tin of mince pies and be with her memory for a while, and then all go for lunch. We know the fairy lights will get nicked, it’s inevitable in the place where the bench is situated, but perhaps for a few days the twinkling lights will send out a warm glow to dog walkers, cyclists and others thinking about those they miss at this time of year.

- On Christmas Eve I intend to light a candle for my mum, and just spend some quiet time thinking about her when the children have gone to bed. This is something I do anyway, but my thoughts will be with her this year. Anglo-Saxon pagans celebrated 24 December as Modranicht – ‘Night of the Mothers’ – which has resonated with me since being on the threshold of motherhood on Christmas Eve a few years ago.

Ever since, I have had my own Christmas Eve ritual. Prior to a quiet dinner with Mr K, I cuddle my daughters as they dream and remember the storm which announced the arrival of our firstborn. Then I light a candle and give thanks to my own mother and the women before her, to the gift of motherhood, and to everyone who is offering a mothering influence to others, in whatever capacity that may be. 

It is a lovely moment to reflect on your relationships with matriarchal figures, and to honour the nurturing instincts that have helped you prepare for this festive season. It is also the perfect time to breathe in the calm that settles around twilight on Christmas Eve. 

- There is always dancing in our house on Christmas Day. I will be sure to put on the music that encourages her favourite ridiculous dance so we can all get involved. 

- At Christmas dinner I am going to set a place for my mum, with her photo on the table. For some people this might be strange or upsetting, but I have the photo next to my writing desk all the time anyway, so we are all used to it. I know this will encourage my children to talk about her in a natural way. A friend of mine has toasted absent friends, one at a time, over Christmas dinner every year for as long as I can remember. We are going to adopt this tradition from now on too.

-       I am also going to make my mum’s famous Christmas trifle this year. I shared the recipe for that in Episode 6 last week.

-       Why not take a moment to think of a few ways that you could encourage conversations about those you love and miss?

(1)  Also remembering that Christmas may not be the ‘happy Christmas’ or the ‘normal Christmas’ we are used to, but there will be joy hiding somewhere.

As you probably know, grief can have a strange effect on the passage of time. A loss may leave you feeling stuck, unable to move forward, yet in other ways life keeps trundling along. Sometimes everyday distractions take over; other times the grief whips you back to the moment when everything changed. And everything gets even more complicated as nostalgia builds with the approach of Christmas. You may feel simultaneously sad and joyous, present in the moment and lost in the past. The numinosity of Christmas can blur all sense of time, stir reflection and heighten our emotions. It can be both a challenging and precious time.

We will all experience an empty chair at the table some day. Eventually, that empty chair will be ours. Christmas can be an opportunity to pause and acknowledge that fact, to give thanks and to remember.

I loved this tiny poem ‘When the times darken’ by Bertolt Brecht in Tomorrow is Beautiful edited by Sarah Crossnan[5]: 

In the dark times

Will there be singing?

There will be singing.

Of the dark times.

(2)  And remembering that we are not alone. To allow our own experiences and knowledge of sadness and loss to lead us towards kindness and compassion to others.

Extra care to those in the sphere of suffering – everyone we know who was touched by the person we love and miss, knowing that they need to do Christmas their own way which might not be your way. My dad has chosen not to put up decorations this year. I was all ready to take my children to go to the forest with him to get a tree, but he doesn’t want to do that, so we are putting our energy into making our own home extra sparkly this year, knowing it will look beautiful when he arrives to join us on Christmas Day.

Knowing that the same goes for us. We have just as much right to opt out of things, or opt into things, as anyone else. Christmas is already going to be different to ‘usual’. We can choose to make it more normal, more like the way it has always been, if that brings us comfort, or we can choose to do something different, if that brings us comfort instead. 

And let’s let our own experience prompt us to take extra care to be kind to people dining alone. Smile gently at the person in a café cradling a coffee, staring into space.

One of our lovely listeners, Louise Heaps who is @thewordkitchen on Instagram, reached out to me to say that she works with the bereavement team at St Oswald’s Hospice based in Newcastle upon Tyne in the North East of England, and would we like some advice for this episode. Of course I said yes please. Here are some words from Brenda Clayton, the Bereavement Support Co-ordinator. Their bereavement team offer a range of support services to bereaved individuals and families on a one-to-one basis and in groups. They also hold a regular Bereavement Café, Memory Days and an annual Light Up A Life event, which gives families the opportunity to remember their loved ones by dedicating a light on their special Christmas tree to them, which is just a gorgeous idea.

Brenda has worked with many bereaved individuals and families over the years. She understands how difficult the festive period can be for people who are grieving. She says: 

“Christmas is a difficult time for any bereaved family but particularly those facing their first Christmas without a loved one. Often, the build-up to the day is more stressful than the day itself. The anticipatory grief can start weeks or even months in advance.” – I should add that from you may have been feeling this, perhaps without even realising it – these past few weeks, and it may have taken a toll on your wellbeing, so it’s really worth being aware of that.

Brenda said, “Your family may have special traditions that are very personal to you, built over many years. Some of these traditions may no longer be possible without your loved one. This can result in you feeling a huge void around this time of year. It’s important to recognise that life has changed and that you may need to live your life in a different way.

Create new traditions that work with your new life. This is not about forgetting your loved one; it’s simply a way of adapting to your new situation. Make sure any new traditions work for you. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself to create the perfect Christmas for everyone else. Find what works for you – this isn’t selfish, it’s a way of coping with the grief and the complex emotions that come with that.”

She added, “I worked with a client recently who was experiencing a lot of anxiety about Christmas. I asked them what they wanted to do. She answered she wanted to spend the day with her children, eating pizza and ice-cream, sitting on the floor. That’s exactly what they did and they had a lovely day as a result. It might not have been traditional but it worked for them.

There may be periods of sadness and tears at Christmas. That’s completely understandable. These are your feelings and this is your grief. But create a day that is as stress-free as possible. It’s not about doing what others expect you to do – it’s about creating a day that’s right for you. If you are struggling with grief, contact your local hospice to ask what bereavement support services they could offer. Remember, grief is unique to everyone but you are not alone.”

Thank you Brenda. In the show notes I have included a list of places you can turn for support if things get too much for you this holiday season (or any time), as well as a link to Brenda’s hospice in case you want to make your own donation.

To be honest, I can’t believe I went through more than four decades of my life with absolutely no appreciation of the incredible job that hospices do, until the moment my mother needed one, and it was there for her, and they let us stay with her night and day for the last few precious days we had together. If you have any spare cash this holiday, please consider donating something to the hospice wherever you live, or having a clear out ahead of Father Christmas arriving, and donating clothes and toys to a local hospice charity shop. 

POEMS

Before we move onto our writing exercise or this week, let’s drink in a few beautiful lines of poetry. If you are in need of a poetry book at this time, I highly recommend any of the anthologies these poems come from. Some of these are really arresting, but there’s something in reading others say what they really feel, sensing them stare their feelings in the face, that gives us permission to do the same. 

·      THE END OF A SEASON by Dana Gioia in Soul Food: Nourishing poems for starved minds edited by Neil Astley and Pamela Robertson-Pearce

I wanted to tell you how I walked tonight 

down the hillside to the lake 

after the storm had blown away 

and say how everything suddenly seemed so clear 

against the sparkling, rain-soaked 

streets cold and bright as starlight.

I wanted to wake you up, despite the hour, 

and drag you out into the dark 

crisp air to feel the end of winter, 

the cold we cursed so long 

slipping away – and suddenly so precious 

now that it was leaving.

But there is no one to come back to now, 

only the night, its wind and rain, the chill 

magnificence of its borrowed light, 

the touch of this impossible season.

·      Vigil by Phillis Levin in The Art of Losing: Poems of Grief and Healing edited by Kevin Young

Why not wake at dawn? Why not break

From the coffin of night, whose nails

Are the only stars left. Why not follow

A tear like a comet’s tail, and trail

The grief of a year until it ends –

Who knows where. Why not wake

At dawn, after all is gone, and go on?

·      Remember the time by Ashley Muller in Like Frost on the Winter Garden edited by Austie M Baird

I tip-toe over black ice

Black ice,

Black ice,

That reminds me of you.

In fact,

Everything reminds me of you.

·      UNTITLED by Cherie Arnitt in SHE WAS THE STORM by Cherie Arnitt

you will get through this 

just as you

have gotten through

every struggle

that came before

·      TODAY MY HOROSCOPE READ by Warsan Shire in THE POETRY PHARMACY FOREVER edited by William Sieghart

You are the alchemist 

of your loneliness. 

You can create anything 

in its place.

·      Stopping by woods on a snowy evening by Robert Frost in Vintage Frost The Collected Poems. P.244

Whose woods these are I think I know. 

His house is in the village, though; 

He will not see me stopping here 

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

And these words in Evergreen: Discovering Joy in every season by Lydia Millen.

Find solace in the knowledge that while life won’t ever feel exactly as it did before you experienced loss, it doesn’t mean that life won’t feel joyful again. Grief and joy can co-exist and colour will return to the space that was once filled by whoever you have been lucky enough to love.

Earlier in the season I recommended some music but I can’t not mention Wintersong, the most beautiful song written and sung by Sarah McLachlan in honour of her mother. Do have a listen.

Writing exercise

-       Write a letter to the person you love and miss. Tell them about all you are doing to make Christmas special this year. Tell them whatever you want to say.

Craft

-       Decorate a box to honour someone and put lots of memories inside – keep for yourself or give to someone for Christmas

-       One of the things my mum loved was the smell of Christmas which is a mixture of many things. I loved this recommendation from The Almanac 2023 by Lia Leendertz (Gaia) p.262) – ‘Fill a spray bottle with water, 1 teaspoon of vodka and 25-30 drops of Christmassy essential oils, then shake it up and spritz it around. Try: frankincense, sweet orange, Douglas fir.” You could also try mandarin, cinnamon and clove. 

Christmas traditions

@karenofkmx2 On the Solstice we gather in the evening with friends on a nearby trail that runs along the river. We walk into a clearing using candles in jars we have decorated, At the clearing we build a small fire in a tinfoil roasting pan. The kids decorate the nearby trees with treats they have made for the animals and birds (corn cobs, sliced apples on a string, cranberry and popcorn garlands, bird seed and peanut butter pinecones etc). Once the trees are decorated we gather by the fire. When they were little I would read the kids the story Sun Bread by Elisa Kleven. And we would bring out the sparklers (LOTS of sparklers) and encourage the sun to come back. Then we'd pack up and walk back out, singing We wish you a Merry Solstice and other solstice versions of Christmas songs. 

Elizabeth Walter @walterwriter shares a memory of a favourite tradition. Christmas carols inside the old castle walls (the keep, open to the elements above but four ancient walls around us). They’d sell tomato soups in styrofoam cups and the Salvation Army band would play. I loved that so much as a child. I grew up in Portchester in Hampshire and didn’t appreciate it was unique to have a castle in your village! 

And one I will be doing this year – putting on Santa hats and delivering Christmas cards to our neighbours with my children. We always take a tin of mince pies and sing carols as we go, although they might be too cool for that this year. We’ll see.

Nature corner

Fri Dec 22 at 03.27am is the Winter Solstice which marks the return of the light. I have a feeling that this will be more poignant and potent than usual this year.  What if we all got up for the sunrise? Sea swimming is popular where I live, although personally I am happy with my cosy slippers, dressing gown, fairy lights, candle and my notebook, before my family wakes up, and then an early walk. Whatever you choose to do, why not find a way to get out in nature today. A winter picnic, perhaps?

Coming up: 

-       Last posting date for second class letters and cards in UK: Mon 18 Dec

-       Last posting date for first class letters and cards in UK: Wed 20 Dec

-       Thurs 21 Dec National Robin Day UK

Get ahead tips

-       Wrap presents

-       House cleaning if you fancy

-       Iron the tablecloth and make sure you have everything you need for your Christmas table setting(s) 

-       Plan some quiet time between Christmas and New Year

-       And make sure you have registered for my FREE Winter Writing Sanctuary which begins on December 28 and runs for ten days across New Year. It is going to be a beautiful way to enter the new year. You can book your free place at dowhatyouloveforlife.com or via the link in the show notes.

Next week’s episode is Episode 8 ‘Christmastime is here: And breathe… you’ve got this’. It will be a short one, because it will drop just before Christmas Eve, but I have enjoyed sharing this run up to Christmas with you so much, that I really want to offer a special Christmas episode. It will be small but perfectly formed – I will try to keep it to under twenty minutes, so perhaps you can plan to find a gap in your Christmas Eve schedule to fit it in.

And then we have two more episodes – one in the week between Christmas and new year all about making the most of the Hush, and then the final episode of Season 3, just before New Year’s Eve. 

To finish up today I want to offer you an oracle reading and a blessing. This is not religious or based on any particular belief, it’s just me, thinking of you, at this time.

First the oracle card. I used a new deck called The Healing Waters Oracle Deck by Rebecca Campbell. It’s stunning. I asked ‘what do we need to know right now as we think about those we love and miss, and all the other people in the world who are missing loved ones too?’ I picked the card called ‘en caul’ E-N-C-A-U-L. Healer. Seer. Priestess. Soul Purpose. This is what it said.

En Caul Healer. Seer. Priestess. Soul Purpose.

The folklore of many different places, including Iceland, France, Holland, Albania, England and Germany, has tales about a rare event called an en caul or veiled birth. This occurs when the mother goes into labor; but her waters fail to break, and the baby appears in this world still inside the amniotic sac in which it gestated.

According to tradition, children born en caul have second sight and gifts 

In her wonderful book ‘The Lives We Actually Have: 100 blessings for imperfect days’, Kate Bowler says ‘There is a beautiful and instructive language that we can use for naming that strange mix of awful and divine experiences in our lives… It’s the language of blessing… We need a language of acknowledgement for the lives we have, not simply the lives we wish for. We need a spiritual account of time that is rich enough to name the breadth of our experience.” I highly recommend Kate’s book, as well as ‘Benedictus: a book of blessings’ by John O’Donohue. 

You might even want to write one yourself for you and your loved ones this year. In the meantime, here’s one from me. 

A Blessing for Christmas without a loved one

May you have whatever kind of Christmas you want and need this year

May your loved one be present in your mind, in your heart,

In whatever way you want them to be.

May anything unsaid be as if it had been said

May anything that needs forgiving be forgiven

May anything that is complicated fall away

So you are left with the flickering light of an everlasting connection, which reaches back through time, across space, between hearts.

May the depth of your loss be evidence for the vastness of your love

May it help you see into the heart of being,

And remind you to celebrate wonder,

and to stay aware that there is an imprint of your loved one on everything you do, if you invite it.

May you honour those who have helped you through the darkness 

and recognise your own contribution

to the world as the healer you are becoming.

May you show compassion to yourself,

to others who are suffering, 

whether or not you know their names.

May you continue to be interested

In both the remarkable and unremarkable 

which make this life,

and see beauty in the ordinary 

every single day.

May you have whatever kind of Christmas you want and need this year

Outro

You have been listening to The Calm Christmas Podcast with me, Beth Kempton, produced by Untapped Talent. Don’t forget to subscribe, and please tell your friends.

If you have enjoyed the show, you might just love my book Calm Christmas and a Happy New Year: A Little Book of Festive Joy, which is out now from all good booksellers. 

For a peek into my perfectly imperfect Christmas preparations, come and find me on Instagram @bethkempton or on Substack @bethkempton where I also write about midlife, fearless writing, and my favourite ways to travel in Japan.

Stay warm and cosy my friend, and I’ll see you next week.

[1] Loss: Poems to better weather the many waves of grief by Donna Ashworth p.56
[2] Judith Hanson Lassiter email
[3] How to Find Calm in Five Minutes by Joanne Mallon p.89
[4] bethkempton.substack.com > link to haiku essay
[5] When the times darken’ by Bertolt Brecht in Tomorrow is Beautiful edited by Sarah Crossnan p.205