Note to the Season: Please do NOT disturb

I am retreating.

Between mid-December and early January, I shall be tending to the important matters of solitude, sleep and self-care (a term I find somewhat nauseating even while valuing the action itself).

Though retired from full-time work and deeply privileged with my home & hearth and general well being, I am sick and tired of the state of the world beyond my own four walls. I am sick of politicians and billionaires yammering about one thing while delivering another; sick of commercial enterprises inundating me with ads exhorting me to spend in order to save, to give in order to redeem, and to shop local — but shop nonetheless; and so sick and tired of both real and metaphorical murder & mayhem all around.

I want out and away from all that — for a while, at least.

I want peace and quiet. Paper and pen. Laptop and tea. Ideas that transform to story. And I want time without obligation and expectation.

I no longer work full time, so, of course, I have time. But it’s a matter of harnessing it, of locking down the dates on the calendar. Of saying NO to this and that and saying YES to a few things here and there. This is the privilege of the season in my corner of the world: Withdraw, retreat into calm and quiet. Limit the output. Fine-tune the input. Revel in planned quiet and solitude.

Drawing a line through those upcoming weeks on the calendar feels strangely powerful, oddly satisfying and happily defiant of the norms that drive so much at this time of year. I am not going anywhere, not doing anything splashy, just staying home, being home — being here, with my little family of partner and cat, enjoying the occasional visit with friends. Being content in the time and space I am able to carve out of the world’s madness. Being creative, resting (aka, napping — such an unexpected simple joy of later-life), content with what I have, knowing, as I do, how many do not — cannot — reject what’s out there, do not have what I have built right here: a simple life infused with love, security, and creative energy.

When I shared this plan with a friend for whom the holidays are hard, they said, "Hmmmm. You might be onto something, because planning to do nothing out there makes it a plan, so that makes it something. Not nothing.” Yes, exactly: Planning to be quiet, by and with ourselves (and maybe a few others), is a plan. A plan for rest and restoration, for going inward in order to later, happily and willingly, go back outward; that is a good plan.

Whatever the holidays mean to you, whatever rest might look like for you, I invite you to consider striking a line through at least a day or two on your calendar. Don’t wait for illness or personal disaster to legitimate a withdrawing from the world. Make the commitment to yourself and your own peace of mind deliberately, as a gift to yourself. Try it. See what it unlocks in you.

I’ll be trying it for about three weeks. I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll be back here next week, and every week, ongoing. Because this space is one I cherish and want to be, with you, all throughout the year.

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Land acknowledgement: I respectfully recognize that I live on the original lands of Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota and Dene peoples, and on the homeland of the Métis Nation.

Photo of kitten alseep on the bed by Divyan Rajveer Rana on Unsplash