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The poet and artist Jan Richardson, writing in her “Blessing for Epiphany” — which we will celebrate in just a few days — says: “If you could see / the journey whole / you might never / undertake it; / might never dare / the first step / that propels you / from the place / you have known / toward the place / you know not.”

Such true words. Looking back over our lives, many of us recognize that had we seen the entire path in advance — including the eventual losses, illnesses and other difficulties we all inevitably face — we might have hunkered down and refused to budge. But in hindsight, we can reflect on the difficult moments and marvel at the strength and faith that got us through things we would otherwise consider unimaginable. Often, we also marvel at how those moments shaped us, and our lives, in ways we would not want to erase, even if we wish we could erase the painful parts.

As we prepare for the arrival of the Magi at the crèche in Bethlehem, we often forget what was required of them. They did not have a GPS or comfy hotels or any guarantees they’d find what they were after. But they had a star and a belief in something so powerful that it literally moved them into the unknown. If they had been able to foresee the dangers they would face along the way, they might have come up with any number of reasons to stay put, but they trusted the movement of the Spirit and approached the threshold with curiosity and wonder. Epiphany moments don’t happen in the regrets over the past or worries over the future; they happen in the now.

In her book, “Open the Door,” writer Joyce Rupp says: “Threshold experiences contain tremendous energy. They hold the power to unglue and shake us deeply, to enfold us with a seemingly empty darkness that makes us yearn for relief. They can set an imprisoned spirit free, nurse a wounded heart back to health, and bring peace to a desolate mind.”

As we cross the threshold into a new year filled with things we can’t possibly see from our current vantage point, we have a choice about how we approach what’s ahead. Most of us — because we are human, after all — can’t help but go forward with some trepidation. We may not know the specifics, but we know life is usually not easy. In some ways, that in itself can be freeing. It’s a given that some days will be challenging, so how do we navigate this grand adventure? Step by step.

“There is nothing / for it / but to go / and by our going / take the vows / the pilgrim takes: / to be faithful to / the next step; / to rely on more / than the map; / to heed the signposts / of intuition and dream; / to follow the star / that only you / will recognize,” writes Richardson.

We can only recognize our star if we ground ourselves in God and prayer. There, in the landscape of our souls, the signposts will come into focus, showing us the thresholds we are meant to cross, not with fear and hesitance but with faith and hope, even if they unglue us along the way.

This column originally appeared in the Dec. 26, 2024, issue of The Evangelist.

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A fresh span of twelve months stretches out before us now, like a blank canvas daring us to create something new. But we know all too well that the fresh hope of a new year can often get dragged down by old habits that feel as comfortable as a well-worn sweater. This is the time when many of us get down to the business of making resolutions: pounds to shed, diets to clean up, social media to pare down. If we’re honest, the resolutions probably sound a lot like the ones we made last year. Why is that? Because surface-level changes don’t feed our souls; true transformation requires us to dive deep and work toward an inner revolution instead. That requires prayer, complete surrender, and absolute trust that what God has in store is better than anything we can conjure up on a vision board.

Even when we turn to God to help us take this monumental step, however, we often do so with a laundry list of expectations. We want transformation, but we want it on our own terms. Maybe that’s because we know we won’t expect anything too grueling of ourselves. Once we put it in God’s hands, all bets are off. The path we are meant to walk, the person we are called to be, may require a freefall into a new way of living. If you want proof of that, just look at some of the feasts we mark this month.

We begin the year celebrating the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God, the ultimate example of surrender and trust in the face of the seemingly impossible. From there we mark the Epiphany, showcasing the magi who came from afar trusting a star to lead them to the Messiah. Later this month we will celebrate the Conversion of St. Paul, transformed from persecutor to true believer through a blinding flash, an unlikely vision, and an even more unlikely baptism. Which is to say that nothing is unlikely or impossible once we get God involved, or, more accurately, once we open our hearts to God already in our midst just waiting to be invited and involved.

I was recently introduced to the Surrender Novena, which seems made for our journey of inner revolution: “Why do you confuse yourselves by worrying? Leave the care of your affairs to me and everything will be peaceful. I say to you in truth that every act of true, blind, complete surrender to me produces the effect that you desire and resolves all difficult situations.”

“True, blind, complete surrender.” Like Mary, like the magi, like Paul, like so many others over the course of our faith history who have shown us with their very lives that the transformation we seek cannot be found in a number on a scale or in a bank account but by a message of hope written on our hearts by the One who offers us the only real path to peace and joy. What if the only thing you need to do this year is to surrender?

From the January 2024 issue of Give Us This Day, www.giveusthisday.org (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2024). Used with permission.

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Does that mean we should just give up the whole idea of transformation? No. But it does mean we have to rethink what we’re really looking for when we make a resolution that goes only skin deep and doesn’t get to the stuff underneath that usually creates the need for a resolution in the first place. Enter my annual rallying cry: ReVolution Not Resolution! You do not need to make resolutions. In fact, I challenge you to go against the grain and refuse to make any resolution whatsoever. Instead, promise yourself that you’re going to do something more meaningful and more lasting, something that helps you blossom into the Self you were created to be. The journey of inner transformation is the only real way to make the “progress” we seek in our spiritual lives and in our lives in general.

To that end, I’ll be offering an evening retreat — both in-person and online — for those who would like to take up this exciting and fulfilling challenge. We will talk about all the ways we block our own path when it comes to making our daily lives more peaceful and joyful and learn some practical exercises for clearing away the obstacles and moving forward. You can’t fail at this plan. If you don’t do what you set out to do, you just begin again right where you are. No resolution broken, no plan to abandon until another New Year’s Eve rolls around.

Hosted by Christ the King Retreat House in Syracuse and available to anyone in any region via Zoom, this workshop will be held on Wednesday, Jan. 4, from 6:30 to 8:30 p.m. Two weeks after the event, on Wednesday, Jan. 18, at 6:30 p.m., we will hold an hourlong Zoom follow-up session for all participants so we can check in, share progress or challenges, and just generally support each other in our efforts to keep on keeping on.

If you’d like to read more about this approach to starting the new year off right, you can head over HERE to read a previous post on this favorite topic of mine. If you’d like more info on the retreat or the registration link, click HERE to go to the CTK website.

Click HERE to read a recent story on my upcoming retreat in the latest issue of The Catholic Sun.

Photo by SOULSANA on Unsplash.

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Mary DeTurris Poust will facilitate this retreat.  She is a writer, retreat leader, and spiritual director. She is the author of six books on Catholic spirituality and six books of seasonal reflections. Mary writes about the spiritual journey in her award-winning monthly column, Life Lines, and hosts a podcast by the same name. She and her husband, Dennis, have three children and live in New York’s Capital Region. Visit her website at www.NotStrictlySpiritual.com

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So here we are in Week 1 of our daily efforts to journey inward and discover our true selves and create transformation along the way. If you missed the first post on this, you can find it HERE. It will tell you what to pack for this journey (hint: If you have a spiral notebook, you’re pretty much good to go. The rest can be collected along the way.) The one “requirement,” and I use that term loosely, is a gratitude journal, because, trust me, it is such an easy way to begin to shift our attitude, and it’s really nice to be able to go back and look at all the blessings in our lives rather than journals filled with angst and woe. So today I thought I would start with that basic daily activity: gratitude journaling.

What does it look like? Whatever you want it to look like. Seriously. You can buy yourself the most beautiful leather journal with homemade paper; you can use a 10-cent spiral notebook picked up at last year’s back-to-school sale; you can even use a great big mason jar or some other container and squares of brightly colored paper. So many options!

Okay, now that we’ve got the actual journal, what do we do? Well, there are lots of ways you can choose to do this, but I’ll tell you my way, which is quick and so easy I (almost) never say, “Nah, I don’t have time.” Every night before I climb into bed, I take the spiral journal from my nightstand and date the entry. Then I write down three things from that day that I count among my blessings. (I number them consecutively so I can see them adding up over the months. It’s a banner day when I hit a milestone, like 3,000, which I did last month!) Sometimes the entries are so simple (the smell of coffee brewing in the morning) and other times sublime (someone getting a good diagnosis). Most days it’s somewhere in between. Once you start this practice, you’ll find yourself noticing things as you go about your day and thinking, “Oh, I can’t forget to write that down tonight.” Of course, you can always jot down those blessings as you go — on your phone, in a planner, whatever is handy. When I do notice something like that and I’m not near my journal, I often speak the blessing or happy moment out loud to memorialize it in some way. It makes it more real (and less likely I’ll forget it when I get to bedtime).

Here’s a sample from a recent entry:

• A big white moon in a bright blue morning sky

• A flock of birds flying in unison over and over right above my car in the Pastoral Center parking lot

• Everyone home for dinner

And here is a day’s entry pulled from the archives from 2006 (told you I’ve been doing this sort of thing for a while):

• For the dark, stark winter landscape of my backyard against the white night snow

• Watching “Magic School Bus” with Noah this afternoon

• For my home

So, today, this week, try to seek out the beauty and blessings around you, the miracles in your midst. Did something make you smile? Did something touch your heart? Did you just look out into your yard or across a room and spy something that made you happy or made you feel grateful. Write it down. The best part of this is that you don’t have to be a writer or a poet or a meditator or any of those potentially scary things. You just need a pen, a piece of paper and the willingness to notice the world around you in a more intentional way.

Try to go through your days with attention and INtention. This is the first step to reVolution, evolution, transformation and joy. Join me. And, if you’d like, share your experiences with this practice in the comment section. If you miss a day or two or ten, just pick it up and begin again. Always be willing to begin again. You don’t have to wait for a magical date on the calendar. Every day is an opportunity to start over. And isn’t that something to write down in a gratitude journal!

If you keep at this practice, it will slowly change how you see the world around you, and it really will make you more grateful for everything in your life, less likely to complain about the little annoyances, and more compassionate to the people around you. It doesn’t happen all at once, but little by little, day by day, year by year. Just begin and see what happens. If you write down three things every day, you will surpass 1,000 blessings in a year.

I’ve been writing about gratitude journaling for years (decades?), so if you’d like to read some of my previous stories and posts on this, you can start HERE.

You can also find me talking about this topic over on my podcast, Life Lines with Mary DeTurris Poust. Click HERE for that.

Thank you for joining me on this journey. Remember to begin again each day. There is no start date, no end date, no “goal” you have to hit. Just begin. And then begin again.

Peace and Love,
Mary

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Join me on a three-week journey toward real change, transformation that happens from the inside out and has real staying power. I’m not saying you’ll be transformed in three weeks. That’s not possible. What I AM saying is that I can give you the tools, the practices, and the motivation to set yourself on a course for finding what your soul is craving. ReVolution, not resolution is our rallying cry!

Resolve to Evolve is a three-week series that will focus on meditation, mindfulness and discovering the miracle of the mundane right here in the midst of our busy lives. I will be offering this series in-person or online through Jai Yoga School on Sundays, January 2, 9, and 16, from 12:30 to 1:30 p.m. We won’t just talk about these topics; we will get down to the hands-on practice of each. I can’t wait to join you on this journey and see where it takes us!

The three-week series costs $60. You can register by clicking HERE. Additional option: If you have the time and inclination, you can sign up for the Gentle Yoga class I teach at Jai each Sunday from 11:15 a.m. to 12:15 p.m., also available in-person or online. While it’s certainly not required, it’s a great way to prepare for meditation. Class sign-up is available HERE.

If you plan to join me, bring a yoga mat, a blanket or cushion (although Jai has blankets if you want to use one of those), and something to write with. I will provide small journals. Other than that, just bring an open heart and mind and a willingness to be still and silent for a little bit. That’s where the magic happens!

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I think it’s important to share that with you if only to remind you that it’s okay if you stray off the path or pull into a rest stop for a few days. When you’re ready, dust yourself off and begin again. The only thing you should try to continue to do no matter what else is going on is your gratitude journal. But always, always continue to be kind and gentle with yourself no matter how this journey is going for you.

The next thing on the list I outlined when we were on the cusp of this revolution-not-resolution transformation journey was a connection with nature. Can you find a spot where you can either see or be in nature each day? Do you have a chair by a window where you can see birds or squirrels? Do you have a path nearby or a quiet street where you can take short walks (or long walks if that’s your thing)? Nature has a way to heal us, connect us, make us kinder.

When pandemic first hit last March and most of us were trapped in our homes, I took to working in the armchair in our family room where I can watch the goings on in our backyard, in particular the bird feeder. I became a bit obsessed with bird watching. I downloaded apps to track the varieties I could identify; I kept a running list in the notes on my phone; I talked to them; sat outside with a camera hoping to catch them in action; found myself disappointed and rejected if our feeder was empty. I wrote a column about the way sitting at my window in pandemic changed me. You can read “Falling for Spring in a Season of Fear” HERE.

Although the initial obsession with the birds faded a bit, my newly found love for these hearty and cheerful creatures has settled into a lovely spiritual relationship. I look outside when it’s only 3 degrees and the snow is deep and marvel at the little sparrows so oblivious to the cold, flitting around looking for a snack. On the days when I take the dog for a walk, I talk to the crows sitting in the trees on our street. (Crows can remember a face, so be nice to them!) Although we are awaiting a winter storm, I just unpacked a new bird feeder and a 20-pound bag of black oil sunflower seed so that I can give the cardinals a place to eat since my current feeder doesn’t suit them. (Maybe the obsession hasn’t quite faded.)

Many of us at this time of year are dealing with cold and snow (we’re expecting 8 to 12 inches as I write this). It can be hard to love this season if we’re not skiers. It can be easy to wish away the present and long for warmer and sunnier days, green trees and sitting on the deck. But can we learn to be content, happy even, with the season we are in — the physical season of the world around us and the life season we are currently navigating day by day?

I’m currently listening to the book Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times by Katherine May. I have a feeling this is another that I will purchase in hard copy as well so I can revisit my favorite lines. As I drive through the cold and snow to get to work or the yoga studio, as I sit in my chair awaiting the next storm and knowing spring is a long way off for those of us in upstate New York, her words call me back to the here and now, reminding me to savor what is right before me, even when my teeth chatter, even when I’m worrying about the kids driving on slippery roads.

“We may never choose to winter, but we can choose how,” May writes. And that is the case for everything in our lives. We may not choose our circumstances, but we can choose how we respond to them. If we can begin to practice acceptance with the seasons of the year — learning to allow ourselves to feel the cold and appreciate the sharpness in our lungs, learning to accept the rain dripping down our window even when we wanted sun — it can help us learn to accept the more challenging things we encounter, not just in nature but in life itself.

Henry David Thoreau wrote: “Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influence of the earth.” Good advice. When we resign ourselves — not in a defeated way but in an accepting and joyful way — we open our hearts and minds and spirits to a whole new way of seeing and being. It may start with appreciating a goldfinch at a bird feeder, but if we nurture it, it can evolve into finding joy even in our challenges, of learning to balance sorrow and joy without losing our balance or our peace in the process.

When I fell off the path briefly last week, there was the danger that I’d just stay there. In the past, I might have wallowed for weeks and in a deep self-loathing way. But little by little this journey of transformation — which is often a dance of two steps forward, one step back — has allowed me to recognize when I am sinking and make a course correction before I get too dug in. That is the gift of commitment and discipline and the willingness to begin again over and over. We are not called to perfection; we are called to practice — prayer, journaling, silence, nature, whatever helps us go deeper. Start there and then, if necessary, start again, and you will continue to move toward your true self and all the joy it holds for you.

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If you go back to the original post that launched this journey, you’ll note that the third thing on our list — after gratitude journaling and creating a sacred space — is making time for silence every day, even if it’s just a few minutes. So let’s talk about that and what it might look like in your busy life. I know making time for silence is usually not easy, even when we have the time and the space, even when we’ve got nothing on our plate but doomscrolling on our phones. Why is it so difficult to sit in silence? Because silence is challenging, especially when we first start — and it’s anything but silent. We might not be saying anything or listening to anything but our mind is screaming with thoughts and memories that demand to be heard.

So, first things first. If you created a sacred space, this is where you should go for your time in silence. If not, find a place where you won’t be disturbed. (If necessary, put a sign on the door or alert family members so they give you some space and peace.) Find a time that works for you — first thing in the morning or just before bed (or both) are the obvious choices, but if you have other times that work better, go for whatever will make you more likely to stick with the practice.

Commit. The hardest part is showing up. Isn’t it funny how we do that to ourselves? We can waste countless hours on TV, social media, shopping, talking or texting, and yet, when it comes to even five minutes of silence on a cushion or in a chair, we suddenly don’t have the time. So commit to showing up, even if it’s only five minutes, even if you say you’ll show up five days each week rather than every day. It gives you a cushion. Although making this a daily practice or twice daily practice — like brushing your teeth or showering — will weave it into the fabric of your life and make it less likely that you’ll shrug it off day after day.

So what do you do once you get to your sacred space and sit in silence. Well, here are the practical/physical tips: You want to sit with a nice straight back, so either sit up on a cushion on the floor (if that’s your style) or sit a chair where you won’t sink back and slouch. If you’re in a chair, you want both feet on the ground. Spine long, crown of the head lifting toward the sky, chin even with the floor of even slightly down so the back of your neck is long. Let your palms rest on your legs. If you’re clenching your jaw or furrowing your brow, relax your face. Soften your heart and belly. Deepen your breath, but don’t force or manipulate it, just gently invite your breath down into your belly rather than breathing shallow from your chest. Close your eyes or lower your gaze so you’re looking at the floor. Now you’re ready. You can set a timer for however long you want to pray, meditate, sit so that you’re not constantly checking your clock (and you will want to constantly check your clock if you’re new to this).

Now what? Now you listen. For the still, small voice, for the Spirit speaking to your heart, for your own inner voice crying out to be heard over the din of the world. Depending on your faith tradition, you might want to begin with a prayer asking the Spirit to guide to you. If you have trouble staying silent and still, find a word or phrase that speaks to you and come back to that, like a mantra. It can be a verse from Scripture or a word that makes you come back to God’s presence, or it can just be your breath. Keep coming back to your breath when you mind wanders, but don’t fight the thoughts that come up. “Monkey mind” is the term Buddhists use for the inability of the mind to quiet its own chatter when we sit in silence or meditate. A spiritual director on my very first silent retreat told me to imagine those thoughts like a leaf or twig floating on a river. Just watch them come and go and let them float away without grasping or attaching in any way. That’s easier said than done, but it will get easier the more you practice. When your timer goes off or you’re done for the day, don’t jump up and grab your phone immediately. Come out of it slowly, maybe with hands in prayer position at your heart. Say a little prayer of thanksgiving if you like or some other prayer, bow your head, and return to life with more gentleness toward yourself and others.

Saying all of this to you inspires me to recommit to my own practice of daily silent prayer and meditation. I often meditate as part of my yoga practice, but I’ve let my early morning silent prayer practice fall by the wayside these days, and I can feel the difference in my life and in my inner peace. Today I will join you in making a plan to sit on my cushion at least five days a week first thing in the morning. Let’s check back next week and see how we do. If you have questions or suggestions or observations, please share in the comment section.

Peace, love, blessings,
Mary

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