An Invitation to Grow Through Life’s Struggles

Weekly wisdom to level up your creative life in 3 minutes, for free.

A SHORT STORY

This weekend, I threw away my Christmas tree.

A few years ago, I learned the origin of the Christmas tree, and it’s a story I’ve carried with me ever since. It goes like this: we put up Christmas trees during the darkest time of the year—when the days are shortest—to remind ourselves that the light will return. That’s why the story of Jesus begins at Christmas, a reminder that the savior will once again bring the light.

In the shadow of my dad’s terminal diagnosis, I’ve been thinking more deeply about this idea. To me, this time of year is also a reframing of what it means to live with both loss and light.

Winter is a season of loss. The trees are bare, the flowers are gone, and the world feels stripped down to its bones. Yet in the middle of all this, the light invites us to something greater. It dares us to find meaning in the suffering, to show up fully, to feel deeply—even when it’s painful. It’s an invitation to step into the unknown, to explore the side of existence we often avoid.

I once read a quote by the Christian mystic Meister Eckhart: “God is pure invitation.” That line has stayed with me. If God is an invitation, then the question becomes: What are we being invited into?

For me, with my dad, I believe I’m being invited to accept my grief. To sit with it, to feel it, and to let it guide me toward where I need to go.

What is one area of your life where loss or struggle is inviting you to grow, and how might you embrace it with curiosity?

A PIECE OF ART

“The Bell and the Blackbird” by David Whyte

The sound of a bell
Still reverberating,
or a blackbird calling
from a corner of the field,
asking you to wake
into this life,
or inviting you deeper
into the one that waits.

Either way
takes courage,
either way wants you
to be nothing
but that self that
is no self at all,
wants you to walk
to the place
where you find
you already know
how to give
every last thing
away.

The approach
that is also
the meeting
itself,
without any
meeting
at all.

That radiance
you have always
carried with you
as you walk
both alone
and completely
accompanied
in friendship
by every corner
of the world
crying
Allelujah.

Grateful,

Michael