As the nights grow longer and the calendar turns to December, we often find ourselves asking the same bewildered question: “Where did the year go?”
The holidays are a strange paradox of time. On the surface, they are a frantic race against the clock. Deadlines, shopping lists, and the relentless pressure to “get it all done” occupy many waking moments. But underneath that noise, there is a profound stillness that can feel unsettling. The closing of a year invites us to stop, look back, and measure the distance we’ve travelled.
For some, this measurement brings pride. But for many of us, it highlights a gap. It shines a light on who is no longer here, what we haven’t achieved, and the distance between how we feel and how the world tells us we should feel.
In our sessions together, we often talk about the difference between doing and being. Navigating the holiday season often requires us to look at the philosophy of time itself, often through the lens of loss, longing and self-identity.
Chronos vs. Kairos
The ancient Greeks had two words for time, and I find this distinction incredibly grounding when the season feels overwhelming.
The first is Chronos. This is clock time. It’s the ticking second hand, the countdown to the New Year, and the timeline of grief that tells you that you “should be over it by now.” During the holidays, Chronos can feel like a bully, pushing us to move faster than our hearts are ready to go.
The second is Kairos. This is “deep time.” It isn’t measured in minutes, but in felt experience. It’s that suspension of time you feel when you catch a scent that reminds you of a childhood kitchen, or the silence of a heavy Saskatchewan snowfall.
Kairos is where we stop counting and start feeling. And sometimes, what we feel is painful. Kairos is where we notice the weight of the empty chair at the table or the ache of a relationship that has shifted. It is the space where we stop pretending.
The “Obvious” Reflection
Back in August, I wrote about the “obvious” truth of our values—how we often list things like Family, Connection, or Peace as our guiding lights. It seems simple on paper. But the holidays have a way of complicating the obvious.
When we truly pause to reflect on our values, we often bump against the bruises of the year. If you value Connection deeply, then loneliness during the holidays doesn’t just feel boring; it feels like a betrayal of your self. If you value Tradition, then the first year without a loved one to uphold that tradition feels like an identity crisis.
We sometimes avoid real self-reflection in December not because we are too busy, but because the truth hurts. We stay in the frantic motion of Chronos because stepping into Kairos demands we face the reality of our emotional landscape.
You Don’t Have to Force “Flourishing”
I speak often of Eudaimonia but nature teaches us that nothing blooms all year round. In recent years, authors like Katherine May have beautifully explored the concept of “wintering,” reminding us that human life, like the seasons, requires a time of dormancy.
Living here, we know that surviving the deep freeze requires a different kind of energy. Sometimes, resilience looks like hibernation. It looks like rest. It looks like survival. You are allowed to let go of the pressure to be constantly “spring-loaded” and allow yourself to simply be in this colder season of reflection.
This season, I want to share a simple truth: You do not have to have a “Happy” Holiday.
You are allowed to have a Meaningful one. And meaning can hold space for sadness.
Seek out Kairos moments that honor where you actually are, not where you think you should be.
- It might mean saying “no” to a gathering where you feel you have to wear a mask.
- It might mean lighting a candle for what has been lost and sitting in silence with it, rather than rushing to fill the void with noise.
- It might mean acknowledging that this year was hard, and that you are tired.
Time is the one resource we cannot renew, but we can change how we inhabit it. You are allowed to inhabit your time with honesty.
If the reflection on the past year is bringing up more shadows than light, or if the “most wonderful time of the year” feels like the loneliest, please remember you don’t have to carry that weight alone.
References
May, K. (2020). Wintering: The power of rest and retreat in difficult times. Riverhead Books.