Hi Reader!
“Dad! You’ll never guess what I heard today?”
Our youngest daughter called us a week or so before Christmas in 2020. We were in the process of moving to her state, and things were tricky. Would our house sell in time? Where would we celebrate the holidays? Our oldest daughter was in her first trimester of pregnancy and very morning sick. We wanted to know if she could drive the fourth vehicle we needed to transport all our stuff across state lines. Life felt chaotic and uncertain.
“What did you hear?” we asked.
“There’s this Christmas song that talks about ‘muddling through!'” she replied.
“No way!”
When things got tough with anyone in the family recently, my husband, Jay, offered his highest advice: We will all just “muddle through.” The underlying message was that muddling through was a fine option. Her discovery of the term “muddle through” in a beloved Christmas carol was comforting.
“I’ll send you the lyrics,” she said.
She sent us a link to the version of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas she had just heard on the radio, and in the middle were these lyrics:
Someday soon, we all will be together,
If the Lord allows.
Until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow.
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now.
These were the original lyrics sung by Judy Garland in 1944. Eventually, Frank Sinatra requested that the line be changed in 1957 to “jolly” up the song a little, and the whole bit about muddling through was left behind:
Through the years, we all will be together,
If the fates allow.
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough,
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.
I can see why. The idea of muddling through is not satisfying to the human ego. We want direction, purpose, and a positive message to spin everything on. We want to “hang a shining star upon the highest bough.”
But sometimes, the shining star is elusive, and we are too weary to reach the highest bough. What then?
With our recent family medical crisis, I have been observing myself and noticing that while I am generally upbeat and present, meeting the moment as it arises, more often than I would hope, I have become derailed—crying or getting upset, feeling despair or anguish, fighting, or just generally not knowing how to proceed. I feel the need to know the “best” course of action. However, many variables, personalities, and complex situations change daily.
I have discovered that rather than being a beacon of clarity and direction, I have been muddling through as best as I can—along with everyone else.
Still, I have noticed other things, too. Even though things are chaotic and lack clear direction, and even though I have felt upset, I have also had plenty of merry little “now” moments.
I cherish these. How often do we focus on the negative moments, replaying them repeatedly in our minds, but forget to do that with the good ones? It is tempting to shove down all the “bad” stuff in the midst of difficult times, but this is also not helpful in the long run. Muddling through, I realize, leaves room for experiencing the good and bad together.
Monday was Jay and my 40th wedding anniversary. We had planned to be atop a sacred mountain on this day, playing and silently renewing our commitment to one another. We were going to then go on a five-day silent retreat. Silent retreats had played an important role in our lives for ten years until COVID-19 hit. This would have been our first one since COVID-19.
Instead, we were still home amid a confusing and complex medical crisis that demanded all our attention. We barely had time to be with each other and had mostly not been with each other the week before. On the morning of our anniversary, we woke especially early with the idea of going on a little walk together before tackling the day. We did one simple thing that morning. We went on a walk—which we have done hundreds of times—but this time, we left earlier and reversed the direction.
The walk was delightful! As the early morning sun rose and we traveled in a different direction from usual, we saw new things. A series of cliffs on the hillside jumped out at us. Another rocky outcropping further up on the hillside had an impressive cave we had never seen in the four years we’ve lived here. With the sun behind us, I felt like I was seeing the familiar terrain for the first time. We walked hand in hand quietly, marveling. It was a tiny little moment for us, yet it felt sacred. It felt like grace amid beating our heads against the wall.
As I sat (late again) to write this weekly email, I’ve been curious about this concept of muddling through. It doesn’t feel like what I would think a “spiritual” path would feel like. And yet…
Muddling through might be an apt metaphor for the experience of the path. It represents the struggle, the unknowingness, the letting go of goals, direction, and expectations.
“Muddling through,” which has come to mean “managing to do something although you are not organized and do not know how to do it” (various dictionary definitions), captures the fine art of finding a balance between effort and grace—which is how spiritual leader Adyashanti describes the spiritual path.
Parker Palmer, a world-renowned writer, speaker, activist, and Quaker elder who focuses on issues in education, community, leadership, spirituality, and social change, says it this way:
“Some journeys are direct, and some are circuitous; some are heroic, and some are fearful and muddled. But every journey, honestly undertaken, stands a chance of taking us toward the place where our deep gladness meets the world’s deep need.”
So this week, I am embracing this idea of muddling through while paying as much attention as possible to the merry nows that intersperse my day.
One of my takeaways this week was the value of completely reversing one’s direction, of seeing something from a fresh perspective.
I might not be hanging a shiny star on the highest bough yet this week, but I am open to having as many little Merry Christmas nows as possible—even though it is 107 degrees outside and six months until Christmas.
This week, one of my merriest nows was from participating in and co-leading a fabulous solstice workshop with Bekah Andrews. Twelve of us sat together on the longest day of the year when the moon was full. We dove deep into the symbolism and earth wisdom of the moment. We shared vulnerable stories, made moon water, drank sun tea, painted altar cloths, and explored the concept of our inner lover balancing our outer warrior—another great example of seeking a balance between effort and grace. The warrior goes forth with strength and purpose, striking out and setting boundaries, while the lover’s soul helps us check that our “efforts” are also tempered with grace and love.
I have mostly taken a back seat on the book marketing and writing front this week, but things have been happening nonetheless. I am thrilled to announce that my latest article has just been posted in Spirituality and Health Magazine. It’s a topic near and dear to my heart, based on the principles of Write Now Mind but without the community aspect. It’s called “Naked Writing for Anxiety Relief.“
Finally, I hope that if you have a copy of my book, Naked in the Now, you will leave a review. Here’s a link to the Amazon and/or Goodreads page. (Don’t worry if it’s perfect; you can muddle through it!) I have been primarily absent on social media and not championing it this week, but I still want it to find its way! And you can help. If you haven’t dared to dive in yet—give it a go! You can order Naked in the Now here. As always, thank you for all your love, support, and encouragement. Please hold my family in the light for a few seconds today!
Smiles,
https://marijkemccandless.com
Kirkus Reviews endorses Naked in the Now!
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