The Heart of Practice: Finding Ease in a Tender Season
A reflection by Joseph Clements
The holidays have always been complicated for me.
Growing up, Christmas was never consistent. Some years were huge. My dad would come home from fishing in Alaska and the house would feel full and alive. I still remember getting one of those Cheetah Big Wheels one year. It felt like magic! fast, wild, loud, everything a kid could want.
But more often than not, the holidays were pretty rough. Quiet. Sparse. A mix of hope and disappointment that I didn’t really know how to hold as a kid.
I would see other families, my cousins, uncles, aunts, getting showered with gifts, laughing together, and settling into a kind of warmth that felt far away from my own experience. These were the moments when I started to notice that something felt different about my family.
Something felt broken.
There was a heaviness in our house that I couldn’t name at the time. My dad was barely around, and when he was, it felt like he was already halfway gone. My mom was doing everything she could to hold it together, but as a kid it felt like she was overcompensating one minute and overwhelmed the next. Sometimes it felt like she was blaming my dad, or even us kids, for things that were way beyond any of our control.
And I remember feeling lesser.
Like somehow we were the ones who didn’t measure up.
Like the way other families connected wasn’t meant for us.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault. They were doing the best they could with what they had, carrying their own wounds and stories that I didn’t understand back then. But the impact was real. That sense of “something’s different about us” sank into my body long before I had the language for it.
As I got older, my way of getting through this time of year was to numb out. Getting loaded was easier than feeling the swirl of emotions that came with the season. The memories, the instability, the pressure to be “festive,” and the ache of what wasn’t there.
These days, it’s different.
Seeing this time of year through my kid’s eyes has softened something in me. There’s joy there. There’s warmth. But if I’m honest, the emotions still come up.
And I’ve learned that this is okay.
This is human.
This Season Stirs Things Up
This time of year has a way of waking up whatever is already stirring under the surface.
Family patterns.
Old stories.
Expectations.
Memories we thought we had worked through.
The pressure to be “on,” to be cheerful, to keep up.
And at the same time, there is gratitude, connection, and the real sweetness of slowing down — a quiet call inside many of us that says, “It’s okay to rest now.”
Over the years, through my own practice, I’ve found myself reconnecting with something much older than the modern holiday rush. An ancestral memory of how this time of year once was.
Most indigenous cultures, including the lineages my ancestors came from - Irish, French, and Dutch, understood this season as sacred. It wasn’t a time to hustle, perform, or push through. It was a time of slowing down, honoring the shift in light, gathering close, sharing the harvest, offering warmth, exchanging simple gifts, and bringing light into the long nights.
This was a season of tending to the heart, the body, the land, and the community.
A season of listening.
A season of remembering what truly supports us.
When I connect with that older rhythm, something inside me softens. Because it reminds me that the tenderness we feel this time of year isn’t a flaw, it’s part of the design. We’re not meant to push through winter; we’re meant to turn toward ourselves and each other with a little more care.
It’s beautiful.
And it’s tender.
One of the most supportive things we can do is to give ourselves space to feel both; the ache and the sweetness, the grief and the gratitude, the heaviness and the spark of joy that still lives underneath it all.
The Heart of Practice
In mindfulness, we often talk about presence, the ability to be with what’s here without running, numbing, or collapsing under it. But that presence has a heart to it.
The Buddha taught what are called the Brahmaviharas, or the “heart practices”:
Kindness
Compassion
Joy
Balance of Mind
Not things we have to create or earn, but qualities that are naturally here, even when they’ve been covered by layers of protection or pain.
Protective Habits Once Protected Us
For many of us, especially around the holidays, our old protective habits come online.
Maybe we shut down.
Maybe we get sharp.
Maybe we space out or numb out.
Maybe we slip into old roles that never truly fit us.
These habits once helped us feel safe.
They got us through what we didn’t yet have the tools to navigate.
But over time, the same armor that protected us can also cover the heart’s natural warmth — not forever, just enough that we forget what’s underneath.
Mindfulness, emotional awareness, and somatic practice give us a way back. They help us feel the body, reconnect with what’s real, and soften the reactivity that closes us off from ourselves and others.
A Morning to Pause
On Saturday, December 6th, I’m offering a half-day gathering called The Heart of Practice at the Sit.Feel.Heal. Meditation Center.
It’s a morning to pause, breathe, and be with what’s already here — the tenderness, the confusion, the joy, the exhaustion, all of it.
We’ll explore:
emotional awareness
somatic grounding
gentle movement
guided meditation
reflection and journaling
and the heart practices that reconnect us with kindness, compassion, joy, and balance
This gathering is a perfect time to work with what’s already coming up, and to create space for whatever may arise as the season unfolds.
My hope is that you leave feeling steadier, clearer, and more connected to yourself and maybe even to the joy of connection, sharing, giving, and rest that this season is actually meant for.
If you feel called, I would love to have you join us.
Sliding scale, no one turned away.
https://www.josephclements.com/classes/p/the-heart-of-practice-a-half-day-mindfulness-meditation
And for those who live out of the area, I’ll be offering hybrid (in-person and Zoom) classes, workshops, and retreats starting in 2026. I would love to practice with you, wherever you are.
With gratitude,
Joseph
Written by Joe Clements — meditation teacher, musician, and founder of the Sit.Feel.Heal. Meditation Center in Santa Cruz, CA. For weekly talks, meditations, and upcoming offerings, visitsitfeelheal.org.