The gifts of Christmas...

It seems that if someone about my age is a single and childless adult at Christmas, said single childless adult must scrape together some semblance of holiday-ness in order to feel worthy of celebrating a holiday that is pretty much designed for children.  I have noooo problem with this as I love children. I am lucky to have several in my life (a few nearby though most live 2000 - 7000 miles away).  I love them, I celebrate them and I enjoy seeing the joy brought to them by the gifts, the lights, the magic and the general air of celebration.  I love it.  And perhaps that's why I've really struggled with the tinge of sadness I seem to have had lingering deep in my gut for years when it comes to this holiday.

I loved Christmas as a kid.  We didn't have much so it wasn't about the gifts, it was about the pure fact that we had something positive to celebrate:  the birth of a baby who started a fresh new life (which curiously seemed to end a mere 3-4 months later when we celebrated that baby's death by wearing spring dresses in the cold Northeast with matching hats and white shoes we had to try reeeeal hard not to get muddy).  But Christmastime, amidst the snow, cold temps and moon-lit nights seemed magical.  It was a happy time (and lots of people who weren't, as a general rule, happy the rest of the year seemed happier in December).  It was a time when "old" people seemed to look me in the eye and speak to me like I actually mattered.  It was a time when my daydreams got lost in the late afternoon darkness that was broken up by various sizes and colors of Christmas lights on the neighbors houses.  Christmastime was my time for daydreaming, singing, painting and making things for people who were happy to receive them.  I got lost in the wonder of laying beneath the Christmas tree and looking up into the depth of lights and branches and ornaments, creating entire worlds of mystical fairy tales complete with little beings who I just *knew* lived inside the branches of my tree.  (They probably lived inside yours too, did you ever look?)

But as I grew up and tried hard to hang onto that wonder (which manifested itself as entire Christmas wonderlands complete with live 6-foot trees in one corner or another of the various shoddily furnished apartments I occupied at the age of 21... and 22... and 23).  I collected entire Rubbermaid bins full of decorations - some handed down, some collected at after-Christmas clearance sales, some purchased with money that was probably meant for food - but I just kept collecting.  I kept up the Big Deal Christmas thing for years, through different apartments, different boyfriends of different faiths, and different cities.  I had great parties attended by great bunches of friends who had great bunches of fun.  Somehow, I was still gifting Christmas to my own child within - and to as many friends as I could have come over.

But something happened.  I'm not exactly sure when or how - perhaps a bad relationship, or no desire to unearth the Rubbermaids, maybe I was too busy in my new job... whatever the reasons, it all led to years of little or no Christmas.  As friends had babies, my Christmas seemed a little out of place, so I gave it up.  I had children around me to give to so I focused on buying the sweet little gifts, wrapping them in curly ribbon, fancy boxes you don't throw away and custom-made tags worthy of hanging on the tree.  I loved this - I still do - but I realized that this was a replacement for the Christmas I loved so much as a child and gave to myself for many years as a young adult but for some reason stopped giving to myself in recent years - until I realized something very important.

It turns out that the gift of Christmas is something you CAN give yourself.  You CAN lay beneath the tree and stare up through the branches for an hour in a state of wonder at the age of 30 or 50 or 80 (mind you, I haven't hit two of those benchmarks yet so I'm speculating a bit here...).  You really can.  You don't have to have a child to do it and you don't need to justify it to anyone.  The gifts of Christmas are gifts you give to those you love, yes, but the real gift of Christmas is something much deeper.  It's not just about the meaning that is discussed, debated, debunked, disregarded and just generally dissed more often than not lately.  Rather it is very personal meaning that matters - it's the magical one that existed in your own childhood and that is not debatable.  Nor is the deep meaning of the holiday that we each hold deep within ourselves debatable.  But I won't tell you what that meaning is - that's not up to me.  

It's up to you - not your mother, your sister, your neighbor, the talking heads on TV, the marketers at Macy's, your friends on Facebook, the people you don't really like on Facebook or your ex-boyfriend.  If it's overly commercial to you, well, I kinda think that sucks but that's your Christmas, not mine.  If it's orthodox, that's your choice too.  If it's full of Santa or ornaments handed down for four generations on your mother's side or if it's a time to bake with your sister, that's entirely YOURS to have, to experience and to love.  Don't give it up.  Don't give it away.  Do give.  And do receive the gift of Christmas that exists deep within your own heart... that wonder you once had that still lives within you and wants to give itself back to you year after year and remind you of something only you are supposed to know.  It wants to give Christmas back to you as the best gift you can ever receive, so be open and receive it.

Merry Christmas to you, to me, and to all of us, in whatever way we choose to receive that gift.

Oh, and don't forget the gift of the guitar playing Santa...  This one is for you, T.L.

The un-shared ideas of quiet souls...

I've realized, over a recent period of self-directed disconnection from most of the stimulus happening in our world that so many people matter whose names we will never know and and so many solutions to problems in our world exist that will never be brought to light.  These inspired ideas and peaceful solutions won't even be brought to a level of consciousness other than that of the mind that thought it.

I've realized that our thinking, hurting, angry, over-communicative, over-stimulated and frustrated minds are so full that the quiet space needed for the gentle souls among us and peaceful solutions contained within them have nearly no place in our world right now... but it is precisely those souls and those ideas that are so needed.

The news bombards us.  The talking heads talk.  The angry politicians act without thought and fight without concern.  The egos are bigger than ever.  Acting on impulse, from anger and without thought - it's everywhere.  The injustice is ripe and rotting in our own front lawns but we can't seem to clean it up.  We can't seem to even call attention to it anymore because it is everywhere.  In fact, the stories that seem to capture and hold our attention are those rare stories of change and hope in the world - those are the ones that stand out from the rest.  Those are the stories we are truly seeking, but our pre-programmed and muddled minds always seek more and more stimulation and ultimately they forget the story of hope.  They turn back to the terror, the fear, the desolate reality of a world gone wrong.  We swim in it.  We are desperate for change and peace but we can't find it.  Too much gets in the way five minutes later.  The hope which seemed so palatable is once again gone and we are left seeking, knowing it is somewhere in the chaos of the rotten injustice.

The hope must be held on to.

Those of us with the hope, the ideas, the solutions, the programs, the generous hearts... we must dig deep and find all the courage we can possibly find to speak aloud those truths which we know can change the tides in our world.  It's hard, doing such a thing, because it requires strength and courage that come from a place which requires a loving fuel to keep us going... but such loving, hopeful energy is so hard to find right now.  Yet still we must try.

And keep trying because that's why we are here.

Just remember that when all of the noise and chaos around us becomes deafening, it is in that space that we can be heard.  We carry the story of hope so many are seeking - and the courage to do the work.  There will be times when we - when you - will need to be your own fuel.  When attentions wander and people forget that your ideas, your courage, your work of change are indeed valuable and are indeed changing the world, you must become your own fuel.  It was in the very same space of great pain and injustice in the world that the quiet and humble teachers throughout human history - Jesus, Gandhi, Buddha - walked quietly through the hells that surrounded them to tell their stories of Love, Peace and Hope.  Those teachers became leaders, those leaders became prophets and those prophets became spirits who guide us still today.  Call on them in your time of great need, but remember that you too contain the same courage they had.  You have the same kind of thoughts, the same space for hope, the same earthly body and the same calling to "be the change you wish to see in the world." (Gandhi)

You may be one of us, you may be that peaceful teacher and I tell you now that I  hear you... and you are not alone.  For it is in the time of great imbalance that true balance can be found.  It is in our destitution that we can so clearly see what hope looks like.  And it is in a world that appears devoid of love for our fellow human that we can recognize instantly what love looks like.  While many may become distracted and forget that they've seen the love, somewhere deep inside them their soul remembers what it looks like and they will keep seeking it.  Stand firm in the love and peace you bring to the world and those seeking it will find you.  God's plan is greater than any of ours and he has sent us to remind the world of that.

Be strong.  Be faithful.  Be courage itself.  Be what you were meant to be.

Eye of God