Twixtmas is that quiet, special time betwixt and between the Christmas gatherings and the New Year celebrations. Twixtmas offers a quiet time, a time to rest, reflect and, perhaps, make a New Year’s Resolution.

New Year’s Resolutions date back over 4000 years from Ancient Babylonian celebrations which included paying off debts incurred in the previous year, returning borrowed items, and planting new crops. The celebrations lasted for 12 days in March, and then the timing changed with the onset of the Romans bringing in the Julian Calendar, and the start of the New Year then began on January 1st.

Interestingly the Romans had a God of New Beginnings called Janus. Janus had two faces, one for looking back and reflecting on what has past, and one looking forward to new beginnings.
Leaping forward to the late 1800s, new year’s resolutions took on a more moral and spiritual nature and, over the last century, have also encompassed denying aspects of worldly pleasures, the invoking of self-discipline, compassion of others, and a deepening of held values.

Today, we are so busy with work and the myriad of entertainment, stimulation, and distraction options, it is easy to let slip those importance’s of life – our values, and to live, learn, give and grow.

So, the challenge for us is to find time in this often-frenetic end of year/start of year activity.

Twixtmas is a time to embrace; a time to pause, self-measure and take stock. A time to look back and reflect and discern if what we say we are, is what we know ourselves to be.

Insights arising from this gentle and important practice can form a fundamental part of how to move forward in life and supply the seed of any New Year’s Resolution you may make.

Especially at this time of year, I spend time in nature, read inspiring books and writings, listen pod casts and do Lectio Divina to help deepen my response to the gift that life is. Recently I came across something that originated in Japan with the idea of promoting reflection which caught me immediately, it’s called a Tanka.

Like a Haiku, the Tanka is a poem of sorts. It has a strict structure of lines and syllables, and it need not rhyme.

Here’s an example of an ancient Tanka by Izumi Shikibu which I hope you will find time to reflect on.

How invisibly
It changes colour
In this world
The flower, of the human heart.

And another, this a more modern sample to spend time with by Andrea Dietrich:

We ran gleefully
Chasing the summers fireflies
Putting them in jars …
Those warm nights of our childhood –
They flickered, and then were gone.

Whilst I value the reflections that arise from these evocative Tanka’s, I have also found that the process of writing one is quietly satisfying and cultivates a rare peacefulness. In turn, having moved into a more reflective mood during the writing of this blog, I pass a reflection that arose in the process.

A life without reflection lacks the insight, understanding and foundation on which our deeper soul and spirit life depend.

Unfortunately, its not a Tanka, but I hope it is something that will encourage your own reflection.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas, a Quiet Twixtmas and a Happy New Year

AL

Access mindful meditations and Lectio Divina here …