Every Christmas time I have an internal crisis that wouldn’t be all too dramatic if described as “of existential proportions.” Dealing with the holidays has always been just — a lot. But, I tend to keep a relatively happy smile on my face, even if it feels like the seven hounds of hell are being held back from mauling a mall Santa with just a flimsy dollar store ribbon. Besides, after all the stuff I don’t like about Christmas, I like Christmas.
A couple years ago, I read an article about “gearing down” for the holidays. Today, I thought of it again. The article’s message, coupled with an incredible inner strength I have found recently, is helping me to quiet the hounds. Though I can’t repost or link to the article, I thought I’d summarize.
Gearing down is the opposite of what we usually say about this time of year. Everyone is gearing up for Christmas — for the family, the food, the gifts, the decorations. There never seems to be enough time to do all of it.
Seems like Christmas is the holiday that always gets the chaos attached to it, too. I don’t often hear people saying, “Boy, we’re really gearing up for Halloween this, Frank!” (But of course there are exceptions.)
According to the article (and to everything that feels right to me), gearing down means doing less. Fewer “supposed to”s and “have to”s. More time spent taking care of what I need to keep my energy and mood up during the cold and rush and dark and snow.
To be in the moment — not the past and all those wonderful (or not) memories gone by. To make room for self-compassion.
Seek the place inside that is the source of nurturing. Find that source and allow it to fold fold into itself, allowing the nurturing love to spread. Self-compassion.
Our home may be sparcely decorated this year. We have had other things going on. And we are still unwinding from our recent wedding.
Jason put candles in the windows and some novelty stockings on the dining room hutch (for lack of a hearth). I may grab a swath of evergreen garland to place along the top of the curtain rod in my living room window. The small tree from the Belles may also come up from the basement.
But maybe a real tree will be a spontaneous adventure for us one night this week.
The planning, the hype, the expectations, Elf on the (effing) Shelf, & obligations are not what makes Christmas special. Not to me anyway. The “specialness” is personal to all.
To me, it’s the quiet, the soft lights in the windows, the candlelight service at a Christmas Eve service. It’s remembering how my brother and I would creep downstairs on Christmas morning, our backs to the living room so we could take the surprise in at one time, with our mom and dad there. It’s savoring the time to give to one another, and giving of oneself so that others may have an easier time of it all. It’s the idea of the “mystery” and the waiting — for Santa or Christ or your own personal epiphany.
It’s also about humor, silliness and looking at life with a little less heaviness. Life and all of the stuff we take so seriously is funny.
Today, I am ok with the chaos around me. I don’t need to participate in it. I don’t watch commercials or shop in the mall. Instead, I look to the evergreen trees bearing new weight of icy cold snow. And, I watch “Elf.”
Evergreen is the symbol to remind us of life that still thrives, even in the dark and cold days. The lights in the windows remind me that darkness is not permanent — only from which light emerges.
This is the time of the earth’s cycles where all beings are naturally drawn to their quiet times. To rest after the activities of summer and the grieving for death in the fall. The preparation for the planting in spring.
Honor your rhythms, whatever they may be.
Merry, happy, calm, peace.