THE CREATIVE BUDDHIST NEWSLETTER

Dear Subscriber First Name,

Last night, in the Dharma Bundle community, we hosted a workshop exploring the traditional 12 days of Yuletide. It was a space to reflect on the winter festivities and craft our own meaningful ways of celebrating. So often, Christmas Day takes centre stage, but there’s so much more to this season—more to honour, reflect on, and celebrate.

For example, the winter solstice on the 21st is a time to rejoice in the sun’s return. We heard an ancient story about the sun being carried back through the dark skies between the antlers of a great reindeer—perhaps the original inspiration for Rudolph? The solstice also symbolises resilience. We’ve made it through the darkest day, a triumph worth acknowledging.

The days surrounding the solstice, the 20th and 22nd, are known as Mother’s Night and Father’s Night—a time to honor the ancestors. This can take many forms, from keeping their traditions alive to creating new rituals in their memory. I’ll be honouring my dad by preparing the veg on Christmas Eve while listening to the carol service from King’s College. Without fail, I’ll cry when that single voice starts Once in Royal David’s City (writing this now, I realise the opening carol honors a David, just as my dad was a David). My grandma lives on in the Christmas pudding I make each year, and my mum is honored with a box of Turkish delight.

On the 23rd, we turn to nature. It’s a day to honor its gifts—perhaps by bringing in holly and berries or crafting a wreath. It’s also a chance to give back, like leaving food for the birds as a gesture of gratitude.

The 24th and 25th are for feasting—celebrations of gratitude and generosity. Many of us want to sidestep the commercialism of Christmas, but it’s hard to argue with the beauty of a ritual grounded in giving and appreciation. In fact, this sense of gratitude and generosity seems to run through the entire Yuletide period.

After the bustle of Christmas comes the quiet lull of the 26th, 27th, and 28th—a time for rest and reflection. These days are perfect for creating a little retreat for yourself, if you can. The 29th is about cleaning and cleansing, clearing the way for the New Year. Then, on the 30th, we turn inward, reflecting on the year that’s passed. What do we want to let go of? What no longer serves us? It’s also a time to set intentions for the year ahead—not grand resolutions (those belong to spring, when the sap is rising) but perhaps a simple intention.

Finally, the 31st—known today as New Year’s Eve but once called Old Year’s Night—marks the close of the cycle. It’s a time to honor what’s come before and prepare for what’s next.

Why not take this opportunity to design your own intentional winter celebrations this year?

December’s Dharma Bundle

A Mind of Winter: 
Embracing the season of wabi-sabi

‘A mind of winter’ is the wabi-sabi mind. The mind finds beauty in winter. This year don’t wish away the winter, see if you can recognise some of the opportunities it offers! Just like a night without sleep leaves us depleted, so would a year without wintering.

• Article: Developing a mind of winter

• Video or audio: 4 ways to trust emptiness of winter

• Audio walking meditation: Winter walking meditation

• Video or audio: The practice of wabi-sabi in winter

• Creative Assignment: Boredom: confronting the dragon

• Video: Zoom workshop recording - ‘Preparing for a Wabi-Sabi Yuletide’

The Dharma Bundle is a ‘bundle’ of dharma resources, thoughtfully made and beautifully packaged. Short, illustrated Dharma videos and audio talks. Audio meditations and reflections. Creative assignments. Zoom meetups. Find out more here.

On my radar this week

Moments of beauty in the everyday

Podcast - Feng shui:
We're in the midst of a long, slow process of getting our apartment ready to sell while also searching for a house to buy. It’s got me reflecting on what makes a house truly feel like a happy and harmonious living space, which led me down the internet rabbit hole of feng shui. Let me tell you—there's a lot of cheesy stuff out there on the topic! But the podcast Feng Shui: The Real Thing seems pretty solid. So far, I’ve only made a couple of changes to the apartment, but both have had a surprisingly big impact. Check out the diary extracts below for more.

Book - In praise of shadows:
It also had me browsing my bookshelves for inspiration, where I came across In Praise of Shadows, the classic by Junichirō Tanizaki. It contains the most beautiful description of a Japanese toilet. It’s a slim book, one that deserves to be read at least once a year. Naturally, it aligns perfectly with the whole wabi-sabi aesthetic. Check out this month’s quote below.

Book - On creating things aesthetic:
Yes, there does seem to be a bit of a theme here! I finally got my hands on Leonard Koren’s On Creating Things Aesthetic. He’s the author of the wabi-sabi bible, Wabi-Sabi for Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosophers. Koren is a man of few words, which means he really makes you think for yourself. It’s like he provides a philosophical skeleton for you to build on. He did it with the wabi-sabi book, and he’s done it again here with his thoughts on what makes things aesthetic and how we can create aesthetic things.

Podcast - Alain de Botton:
I really enjoyed this episode of the Feel Better, Live More podcast with Alain de Botton. I’m a big podcast listener, but it’s rare to come across such an intelligent and articulate guest (and he didn’t say “100%” even once—a personal pet peeve of mine). It’s a wide-ranging conversation that touches on so many aspects of life. As it turns out, he’s the founder of something called The School of Life.

Film - Killers of the flower moon:
I finally got around to watching this a few weeks ago. It’s a long film—about three hours—but completely absorbing. Set in 1920s Oklahoma, it tells the story of white people trying to take control of oil-rich land belonging to the Native Americans. To make Killers of the Flower Moon, Scorsese had to gain the trust of the Osage community. It’s compelling not just because the history itself is so fascinating, but also because some of the characters are so complex—difficult to pigeonhole as simply good or bad.

Diary extracts:

Protect your back

I used to have a large desk under the window in our bedroom, overlooking the trees and the nature reserve below. It seemed like an ideal spot, but something about it never felt quite right. At first, I put it down to the obvious—using a bedroom as an office isn’t ideal. But then I came across something in feng shui that clicked: sitting with your back to the door, especially in a space where you spend hours each day, is best avoided.

It made me think about those times at a restaurant when you instinctively aim for a corner table where you can sit facing the room, only to be shown to a seat with your back to the door. It doesn’t feel safe, does it? There’s a subtle unease in not knowing what’s behind you.

So, I decided to make a change. I packed up my large desk and swapped it for a smaller one I had in storage. I placed it under the window, but this time with my seat tucked into the corner. Now, I have a clear view of both the door and the outdoors. The difference is amazing—a sense of ease and rightness I hadn’t expected.

In feng shui, the corner diagonally opposite the door is called the “power position.” It’s a place that supports confidence and security. And it’s true, I feel it.

This might all sound a bit woo-woo, but it’s no different from that instinct to avoid sitting with your back to the room at a restaurant. We know the effect is real. If you’ve got a chair or desk at home with your back to the door, try shifting it around. You might be surprised at the difference it makes.

No you, no tension

I was doing some qigong, following a video by Nick Loffree on the elements, and we were practicing a movement called White Crane. It feels as though you’re a bird with vast wings, lifting them to shoulder height before lowering them again. As your wings rise, your weight shifts onto the balls of your feet, and as they sink, your weight settles back into your heels. So far, this has been my favorite movement to learn. Nick described it beautifully, emphasising that our shoulders can remain completely relaxed as our arms are lifted by the qi—the natural energy of the universe.

Later that day, I walked down to the water where there are herons and other large birds. As I watched them lift into the sky, I thought about how their flight must depend on being utterly relaxed. Any other way would surely exhaust them. I started imagining migrating birds, traveling incredible distances across the world. It struck me how impossible that journey would be if they had a sense of “self,” if they believed they had to make this journey happen through their own power.

This reminded me of a retreat I attended, where the meditation teacher Vessantara was asked how much of the tension in our bodies comes from believing in a separate self—a “me” inside, trying to control everything. I can’t remember the exact percentage he gave, but it was something strikingly high—80% or 90%. You get the idea.

So take a leaf out of their book and move through life like the crane—totally relaxed, letting the qi carry you along.

A quote I’m thinking about:

Every time I am shown to an old, dimly lit, and, I would add, impeccably clean toilet in Nara or Kyoto temple, I am impressed with the singular virtues of Japanese architecture. The parlour may have its charms, but the Japanese toilet truly is a place of spiritual repose. It always stands apart from the main building, at the end of a corridor, in a grove fragrant with leaves and moss. No words can describe that sensation as one sits in the dim light, basking in the faint glow reflected from the Shoji, lost in meditation or gazing out at the garden.

- Junichirō Tanizaki - In praise of shadows (1977)