What is the Present?
Santa Clauses
An instinctual, uncontrollable urge exploded in me on Saturday morning after Thanksgiving. I mean it was bad. I suddenly became driven to send cards with notes in them, fill stockings with ribboned gifts, decorate a tree the old fashioned way (no theme, just lots of not quite matching ornaments), hang a humongous wreath on the door, amass Santa Clauses on tables, light candles to fill the air with cedar aromas and, well, you get the idea. And, I did it. I wrapped our high-rise home in the "kitsch" of a magical Christmas. Hell, I'm even fantasizing about Disney World with all its imaginary characters, twinkling lights and fireworks. Maybe, my daughter's life time Disney fetish rubbed off on me after all these years.
We've always enjoyed spending Christmas with our families, soaking up their holiday decorations and spirit, exchanging presents, and eating rich roast beast dinners fit for royalty. But never, at least not since I was a kid, have I had such an urge to immerse myself in magical being. Yesterday, it gripped me so tight that I found myself, refusing online shopping, wandering the aisles is a real shop, snagging treasures for stocking stuffers.
Despite all my decorating, I want more decorations. My head spun. And, before the week is up, I'll have Christmas cookie baking supplies assembled to create enchanting sugar cookie stars, snowflakes and candy canes, laced with white frosting. I will put these gems into Christmas take-away food boxes tied with ribbons, gifts for staff here in the building. Am I being haunted by the ghost of Martha Stewart? Yes, but she's still alive, so it can't be her.
It's been 10 years since we had a Christmas tree. Living in small spaces, combined with our annual holiday trip to New York City (our gift to each other), made the whole "decorating" thing seem impractical. It was enough to visit our families and city friends, attend mid-night mass (I love the music and pomp), and walk a city full of flashing displays, noisy celebrations, and cozy nooks to enjoy Christmas nights, sitting by a lazy fire, sipping a night cap as we watched people strolling by just blocks from Rockefeller Center. But, obviously, this year is different.
My mind has rearranged itself. No, it's not some kind of dementia, but I do sense the change. Practical, analytical and logical thinking are giving way to the whimsical and contentment. Instead of that person who's always into the next job, the next project, or the next adventure, I find myself being of today, the moment, the present, more than ever. I'm not looking back to memories, where it's so easy to get stuck, missing the "good ol' days". Nor am I constantly dreaming forward, yearning for a tomorrow to bring happiness or riches that aren't at hand today.
So why? Why now? I think it's because this is our first Christmas season on land, after nearly a year of sailing warm waters that taught me an important lesson. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, I want to be home. I find myself trusting the ordinariness of a settled everyday life. Maybe, it's my age behind all this rearranging. Maybe, it's the realization that, eventually, there won't be another Christmas and I should enjoy everyday as it is. And, just maybe, it's me taking a breath to listen to my right brain, that bit of my mind that's been barricaded for so many years, screaming to get out. Well, it did get out and I'm happy about it.
What's inside you this season, screaming to get out? Will you let it?