#294: The Christmas Bardo
Death and Rebirth over Christmas.
I love Christmas.
I love winter.
I love the darkness, the mist, the low light, bare trees, frost, death and return of the light.
I love Christmas in the UK because I feel like it’s one of the only shared traditions we have.
The commerciality of it sugarcoats the true meaning; a sea of Amazon parcels glosses over what it actually is.
But the Christmas spirit lives, families come together, people are kinder, happier and we all focus on connection.
On a spiritual level, Christmas hijacks the winter solstice, the event that (IMO) holds all the meaning.
It’s this event and this timing which is why I love Christmas and why I believe it’s a powerful time of year for everyone.
The light continues to fade to its lowest ebb and then on the morning of the winter solstice - the light begins its return until it reaches its peak on the summer solstice in June.
After a calendar year of work, love and strife. The winter solstice marks the dying of the light. The bitter end. And then, the shy beginnings of something new.
I love this opportunity to wave goodbye to the year. Whilst also taking a peak at a new turning of the sun too. Wondering what 2026 will behold for me?
The cold, the mist or the frost wraps me in this state. Holding me down in this reflective, sometimes melancholy place of wondering and reflection.
The entire Christmas period and especially the pickle jar between Xmas and NY is a bardo. A space between death and rebirth.
I experience it like a long corridor. Nowhere. No time. No place. It’s a limbic space where you’re suspended, floating between worlds. It’s a threshold to linger in.
It’s easy to resist this space. Avoid it with the busyness of plans and planning ahead. Retaining the same energetic state that we’ll embody for Q1, 2, 3 and 4. Yet to do this. To stay on this same frequency is to reject the invitation of Christmas and turn away from its low hum that can lull us towards the fruitful unknown.
If we can let go. If we can truly stop. We can enter this bardo. We can let ourselves metaphorically die and be reborn again in caesars January.
This doesn’t mean no plans, or no planning. But it does mean saying yes to an energetic reset. A nervous system massage of mince pies, cosy fires and family walks.
It’s quite fashionable now to tell people that Christmas can be hard. A difficult time. When I was in the depths of grief last Christmas I certainly didn’t feel jolly. Yet even with a gaping hole in my heart I let the flux of Xmas time rub its wintery balm on my soul. Even if you hate your family, or you resent how much sugar you’ll inject into your veins - you can still let go into the great unknown for a spiritual reset from Xmas eve until Jan 2nd.
I’ll be reading A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. I always read something festive. I’ll be reading Following Aslan and this book on Santa as a Saint, Shaman, Symbol as well to connect to this period on a deeper level.
I’ll do some journaling. Possibly filling in the Year Compass. I’ll light a fire and stare at it. We’ll have NYE with friends and ask some expansive questions over dinner. I’ll go on many, too many walks and watch the weather - looking at the bare naked trees as they give me clues about what’s next. I’ll keep my eye out for Robins. I’ll take a good look at the Christmas tree and smell it’s pines. I’ll watch the fireworks go bang on NYE. These aren’t just things to do over Christmas. Each one is a ritual, a moment, a symbol. If you let it be or connect to it so.
I’ll try and try I will to stay present with family, be there - feet on the floor. Connect. I’ll fail constantly and try again over and over and that’s the best we can do.
“Show me someone enlightened”
“Show me someone enlightened with their family”
And now to let go into the bardo and misty passage of time that will float me to January.
One tip to fully let go into this time of year is to absolutely do everything you can to round out the year. Demolish the to do list. Have that work drink. Squeeze this year to the pulp. When there’s nothing left, it’s easier to let go. Notice your resistance, notice if you’re a little scared to truly switch off. Feel the fear and step into the mist.
Now, I can feel the ghost of Christmas calling me. I’m entering my bardo.
I’ll see you on the other side.
Merry Christmas and thanks for being a reader this year.
James x
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I quite simply love, love this perspective, James!!! Feeling and needing my bardo coming on this year, especially after a very similar journey/story to your own with stillbirth and now a new born! Thanks for all your inspiration, James! Know how much your words mean, and here’s to 2026! K x