Finding Comfort Amidst Christmas Chaos
Society is sick. It’s in a state of disillusionment, aggression, and frustration. We need to sit with it, listen, but not absorb it.
Last night, during Sunday’s Silent Writing session with
on the 4th Sunday of Advent, we meditated on the theme of comfort. It felt so refreshing to be reminded that I can find comfort in my writing, in the space I’ve created for myself. Especially when I write in my little studio, I feel safe and protected.
It is my space—my sanctuary, where I can truly be myself.
Have you ever found yourself seeking such a space? A corner of the world that feels entirely your own?
I need this comfort, this quiet refuge, to retreat into—much like I once withdrew into my imaginary turtle shell, where everything felt at ease whenever the world outside became overwhelming.
My imagination has always been a safe space, a place where I could imagine life as different from the reality around me. In my inner world, there is always peace—true calm, though you can still hear the laughter of children, see them playing on swings, chasing one another. There are huge sunflowers, bubbles floating in the breeze, and I can’t help but smile to myself, thinking, Isn’t this just heaven on earth?
Why would anyone choose the outside world with all its unnecessary conflicts—conflicts that humanity seems so eager to avoid solving? Yes, there are solution-finders, but if we didn’t create problems, would we even need them?
After all, aren’t we the solutions—or shall I say the key—to the problems we create ourselves?
As I find solace in these moments of peace, I reflect on the tension I sense around me. Do you feel it too—the heaviness in the air, the way the world feels just a little too loud, too intense?
It’s clear that I need this space, this time, this comfort to think and reflect. Here, my thoughts flow freely, and I often find the answers I seek. My pen scribbles along, following the lines, and whatever needs to surface eventually rises. (Yes, I wrote this in longhand before typing it out.)
Today, on this fine Sunday afternoon, the 4th of Advent, I have been delving deep into what I need. Only a few days left until Christmas. I took a long walk in the rain to clear my mind, to let the cobwebs blow away. Is it just me, or are the energies in the air particularly intense lately?
I’ve been avoiding the news and media as much as I can, because I tend to absorb more than I’d like. So, I was caught off guard when a friend casually asked, “Do you still have family in Magdeburg, in East Germany?” I replied with a simple, “No,” and left it at that. I didn’t think further about why they asked, nor did I inquire about their interest in Magdeburg. They didn’t seem to want to discuss it, so I didn’t press.
Magdeburg may be part of my past, but I left that city behind in 2006 by saying my goodbyes and have never returned. Others have gone back, clinging to their childhood memories, trapped in the past, refusing to confront it. They often project their unresolved issues onto others—people like me, who long for a safe space, for comfort, for peace from within so without.
Last night, while browsing the German ARD-Mediathek online, I stumbled upon a documentary about Magdeburg. My curiosity got the best of me, and just like that, I was yanked back into my past.
A Christmas market attack on Friday evening stirred something inside me—my empathy, my desire to understand how such events unfold, and why pain seems to surface most intensely at this time of year. The citizens of Magdeburg are undoubtedly in shock, and rightfully so. No one could have predicted such a tragedy.
There is no Christmas spirit of joy right now. But I sense solidarity, an inner awakening, a recognition that this event has affected an entire city that has long felt safe in the glow of the pre-Christmas season. I feel deeply for the people of Magdeburg, but I also know I need to return to my own comfort, my own space, to feel protected.
I dislike crowds—they drain me, robbing me of my joy. I avoid them whenever I can, or leave as soon as I start feeling overwhelmed, seeking a space to recenter and reconnect with who I am.
I’m not saying this violent act is justified. Oh gosh, no!
What I’m pointing to is the heavy energy of discrimination and rejection that drives people to retreat into their own safe spaces. Society is sick—caught in a state of disillusionment, aggression, and frustration. We cannot, we must not, turn a blind eye any longer.
We need to sit with it, to truly listen and hear, but without letting it consume us. We need to remember what we are here for.
What’s our purpose?
There is so much unresolved pain, so many people searching for meaning yet unsure where to look. This is why I feel compelled to retreat into myself—to find peace in a world so often at odds with itself. It’s time to winter, to embrace the quiet and stillness of this season of introspection.
This Christmas market event takes me back to the early to mid-1990s in Magdeburg, when the city of my teenage years was labeled a “Nazi town.” You can look it up if you like—I don’t feel the need to delve into the details here. It was bad enough carrying the weight of that stigma wherever I went. But Friday’s events stirred memories of the night before my 16th birthday. Magdeburg was never a safe city for me, and now it’s back in the spotlight, much like it was back then.
I remember being so close—terrifyingly close—to ending up in the hospital, if not dead, after being attacked by Nazis in our neighborhood. It was the wrong time, the wrong place. We had to run for our lives, and I’ll never forget it. Those men were East German, just as I was back then, but my heart stayed open. I refused to let their bitterness infect mine. Their aggression may have been justified in their minds, but in my heart, I chose to remain kind.
If you’ve read my article:
My Own Sense of Belonging
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you’ll understand that there’s a lot that was swept under the rug in East Germany, and later in unified Germany.
What happened this past Friday doesn’t surprise me at all. People need to wake up and learn from history, so that these cycles don’t repeat.
It feels like the tables are turning. It’s time to cultivate a sense of inner comfort, a space where we can feel safe, a safety that comes from within. This is meant to be a time of comfort, joy, and love—not just for this holiday season, but for the year/s ahead.
Please remember those who may feel lost, forgotten, rejected, or abandoned. They need to be included, forgiven—not for their sake alone, but for ours as well. For they did not know what they were doing—how could they? They were misled, as we all have been at some point.
Remember, forgiveness begins with you—the one you see in the mirror.
Happy Holidays and take good care of yourselves!
DD🌻