With all good intentions, I sat down at my desk today to write about this gorgeous painting by artist Lucy Campbell. It’s called Axis Mundi, a Latin phrase that refers to the center of the world or the connection between the heavens and earth.
I was deeply moved by this painting, and understood my reaction as a sign to slow down, to go inward for a while, to be quiet and rest.
Like many of us, I find myself in between — in between last year and next, in between what was and what will be, in between activity and rest. (Also in between inspiration and dormancy.)
So instead of writing something witty and thought-provoking about Axis Mundi, I am going to share with you this sermon by Reverend Rebecca Bryan, who serves as senior minister for the First Religious Society in Newburyport, Massachusetts.
• READ “The Axis Mundi” online • DOWNLOAD a copy of “The Axis Mundi” (PDF)
The article, titled “The Axis Mundi: its role in mindfulness and across disciplines,” feels like a good companion for these final days of 2024. Within it, I hope you’ll find your own signs — maybe a sign to find your still point, to consider your relationship with change, to find new ways to connect with the world around you.
Wishing you a peaceful, thoughtful, and hopeful New Year.
I knew it was coming. In that same way the slight rumble in the sky tells you there’s a storm coming, the telltale first cough told me Sick was about to arrive.
It started on a Friday, early in the morning. By noon, I was enthusiastically coughing, by three, I was losing my voice and canceling dinner and weekend plans.
Dr. Google confirmed it was not one, RSV, and a COVID test outruled the other. So I gathered my potions — wild cherry bark syrup, Throat Coat® tea, slippery elm lozenges, magical immune support tablets — and took to the couch.
Sick transformed pretty quicky into bronchitis. There were some days I swear I was about to meet a lung in person for all of the coughing. I sounded like a Muppet and, thanks to a round of pinkeye, looked like a zombie for most of December.
And while I missed the month-long fray of holidays activities, I also missed the month-long fray of holidays activities. Instead, I rested…a lot.
I took it easy. And I napped. And I slept. And I sat on the couch and read books. And I watched all eight of the Harry Potter movies (again). And then I slept, again.
Even Work took a back seat to Sick for the month. Lots of things did. But, it turns out, being sick was just what the doctor ordered.
In the past month, I’ve managed to reset my nervous system that’s been in fight-or-flight mode for a very long time. I feel calm and centered in a way I have not since the quiet days of 2020.
I have not set my alarm clock since December 1, and my sleep routine feels balanced and healthy. It turns out, I need NINE hours of sleep, not six — and if I allow it, my body sleeps and wakes in an easy natural rhythm.
If I allow it, I move around in an easy, natural rhythm, too. I remember this rhythm — it’s the beat I dance to when I’m on retreat or vacation, when I listen to my inner music that says: go for a long walk, you need a nap, take some time off.
I suspect we all need more rest than we allow ourselves. We all need more time on the couch with books and comfort movies. Now, in these precarious times more than ever.
Question: is it possible that the only resolution for 2024 is REST?
Last week, my nephew and I stopped at the local library for a contactless pickup of some things he’d placed on hold. He exited the lobby with a bag — a large paper grocery bag — full up with treasures, and he couldn’t have looked more excited!
From the backseat, he reached in and tallied his Christmas vacation spoils: the Scooby Doo videos, the Jurassic Park videos, the Captain Underpants book, and other classic 9-year-old contraband. He was giddy at the prospect of so much time and so much to explore!
I must confess, I am feeling likewise giddy at the prospect of 2021. It is giddy tempered by the sadness and grief we’ve all felt about 2020, but it’s a hopeful perspective nonetheless.
And while my bag of booty does not include cartoons and dinosaurs, there are plenty of treasures to yo-ho-ho about.
Just this morning, I signed up for my 9th annual Goodreads Reading Challenge with the promise to try to read 50 books. First up? Brené Brown’s The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are.
You’ll find there’s a running theme here at the top of 2021. I’m all self-improvementy right now, all I’m OK, You’re OK but everything feels like it needs a little work. Everything feels like it needs a good shaking out, really, like it needs (or I need) to be unfurled and hung out on the line to flap in the fresh air for a while.
Do you know what I mean?
Here’s a funny story…
Every year for years, I’ve kept a Vision Board here in my office. It’s included all of the things I hoped to accomplish or dreamed about. Cut out photos, postcards of dream vacations, words and sayings — all compiled to help me manifest my vision. And every morning, I’ve turned on the light, lit incense, and said a little prayer…for years…until it became rote. Rote, uninspired, spirit-less.
My vision had become spirit-less.
So last January when my friend Judith suggested I take everything off the bulletin board, I was only momentarily stunned. Stunned, then inspired.
In retrospect, I think that blank Vision Board and its lack of expectations is what saved me in 2020, what kept me sane and above water while the waves of quarantine, isolation, loss, and detachment crashed over our heads.
But it’s 2021, a gorgeous blank page at the beginning of a new chapter!
In preparation, I bought some colored pens and a new journal. Collaged its cover with purples and reds and gold leaf!
I’ve consulted the angels, petitioned the runes, and created a simple list of self-care intentions.
I am journaling now with kindred spirit Susannah Conway, unraveling my year in a series of questions and writing prompts.
randomactsofwriting.net 