With only one candle left unlit, Amy offer fresh thoughts and wonderings on the season of Advent. Whether you’ve been prayerfully exploring the season -- or have been swept up in busyness -- we hope you will be inspired to settle in to the rest of this season with balance, intention and purpose.

This is the first in a series of 4 posts, which each include a simple practice.

The season of Advent is a precious time of preparation, and I take it extremely seriously.  I don’t mean that I’m somber and intense; I mean that when people ask me, with all sincerity, the day after Thanksgiving, “Are you ready for Christmas?” I’m like, “No, no I’m not.”  And then I go about using every day of the next four weeks to get ready: one weekend for the tree, one for the cookies, one for shopping, and one for wrapping. Every other day for random decorating, returning items, and attending holiday performances.  I do, however, try to locate the advent wreath so that it’s on the table on the very first day - that I’m ready for.  

In Christian tradition, Advent evokes themes of eager anticipation, hope, and joy along with preparation.  It also holds space for patience and perseverance. For the vast majority of Christian practice, Advent was as much a solemn and penitential time as that of Lent, the time preceding the resurrection of Christ at Easter and includes prayer, fasting, and almsgiving.  Indeed, these are still mainstays of our Advent tradition, though in modern times, Advent can seem to be nothing but a swirl of festive activities, to-do lists, celebrations, and parties. Because of this, it is extremely challenging to create a sense of balance, intention, and purpose. Scripture can help guide us here.  Readings for the first week of Advent speak of awareness and readiness, and both Paul and Jesus exhort us to notice that “now is the hour for you to be awake from sleep,” and “you also must be prepared” (Rom 13:11-14; Mt 24: 37-44).   

During the first week of Advent, my family celebrates St. Nicholas Day.  I had gone to bed late the night before, which is typical; but then I did something out of the ordinary:  I woke up early. I mean, I actually got out of bed early.   I brushed my teeth, put in my contact lenses, found my computer and lit a candle.  I needed to get some words written before the household began stirring, and I needed something to off-set the glow of the computer screen.  The flickering light of the candle put me in mind of the times I light a candle during my yoga practice and the times I have a candle close by when I sit with God in a formal, disciplined way.  This gave my writing time a sense of holiness, which is a comfort I didn’t realize I needed. As I began to type, I heard my children whispering excitedly about what St. Nicholas had left them in their shoes. The three youngest ones rarely crawl out of bed early, but with their shoes lined up at the front door holding chocolate gold coins, I guess it seemed obvious that 6:30 would be a good time to be awake.  I know it was for me.  

I’d prayed the night before for the strength to get up and write, and while I didn’t just pop out of bed at the sound of my alarm, I did have an inspiring string of thoughts about yoga, breath, finding myself, and finding God.  That was enough to get my feet on the floor and my hands to the keyboard. It felt good to be writing, to be nestled on the couch with a candle nearby, sitting in a place of holiness in those quiet moments before the sun colored the sky with streaks of pink and purple.  I felt alive. I noticed my own inner light was shining with the joy of it. Waking up was my own gift from St. Nicholas on that cold December day.  

If you’d like to experiment with waking up and finding your light, here are some practices you can use throughout the Advent season and beyond. 

Practice for Advent: Noticing the Breath & the Body

My first yoga teacher liked to remind us that we are human beings, not human doings.  This is very difficult to remember, especially if you notice that your sense of self-worth is tightly bound to productivity.  If you’d like to practice being, which is very much like being awake, you might begin right now:  pause in your reading and notice your breath. 

Keep in mind that the breath tends to shift or change once we look at it, and this is normal.  However, try to let it be natural. Allow the breath to come and go at its own pleasure. What is it like?  Does it seem smooth, choppy, short, shallow, deep, almost imperceptible? Does it have a texture? Do you imagine it as a certain color? 

You need only spend a few moments, five or ten rounds of breath, or you could set a timer and keep with this practice for a few minutes.

You could also try to notice your breath for a brief moment here and there throughout the day at neutral times. How about every time you sit down, whether on the couch, in the car, or at the table?  You could also practice noticing during times that are challenging. Navigating a difficult conversation with a customer, coworker, or client? Notice if your breathing is shallow. If so, imagine breathing into your belly and let your lower torso expand on your in breath, and press down through your feet on your out breath.

If watching the breath feels awkward, uncomfortable, or extremely unpleasant, you might begin practicing being or being awake by noticing sensations in your body, whether they are pleasant ones or irritating ones, right now:  how do your feet feel, cool, warm, tired, neutral? If it’s difficult to tell, wiggling your toes or rolling your ankles can be helpful. You could do this each morning before getting out of bed, or after brushing your teeth. 

Even still, you could simply place the idea in your mind: today I will notice my feet. Then pay attention to see if it happens throughout your daily activity.  Standing in line for purchases or returns? Wiggle your toes, notice your feet, and feel your energy settle, your nervous system reconnecting to the earth.  

Something I find immensely helpful is to offer a prayer about it. Ask God to help you notice what it’s like to simply be alive.  This being alive is miraculous, and sometimes noticing it feels like a miracle, too!