My Holiday Wish
I'm never sure what to say when people ask me if I am ready for Christmas. I guess I'm not even sure what kind of question that really is.
What do I have to get ready for? Am I supposed to be stressed out or something? I don't get it.
So I normally reply with one simple word: Sure. Saves alot of explanation for me.
It has been a long time since I've felt the enormous weight of the holidays on my shoulders. I used to go into a state of perpetual panic with regards to gifts. I had my list every year, and would methodically go about buying everything on it, hoping that everyone would be happy with whatever doo-dad and doo-hickey I could find for them. Then one year, while staring blankly at my page-long obligatory shopping list, I just knew I was done. Done with the worrying, done with the crowds, and done with the gifts. None of it made sense to me anymore. It's not that I didn't love my family and friends. And it wasn't that I feared spending the money. I couldn't have cared less about that. No, it was something else. Something a little more than just my angst over entering a bustling shopping mall.
For me it just felt wrong. Forced. Empty. I was done.
About eight years ago, I made the announcement to the rest of my family after we had finished unwrapping that year's slew of new stuff that this indeed would be the last Christmas I was going to participate in, at least materially. No more gifts. I sounded a bit like the boy who cried wolf at first, as I had been hinting at such a renouncement for quite a few years. But to everyone's surprise but mine, I stuck to it. And it was only fair to also include a promise that I would not be offended if anyone else did the same with me (stopped giving gifts, that is).
So it was decreed. Christmas would be a time to do whatever your heart says is the right thing to do. You want to buy presents? Knock yourself out. You want to send a card? Go for it! You want to just pretend like it's not happening? Feel free! Just don't expect me to participate in any of the reindeer games, please.
Now, I know what you are thinking. When did Paul become such a Scrooge? Eboneezer Soluri, you are quite the curmudgeon! And I can see how some people could interpret this decision as Scrooge-like. But I don't care. Sure, I might feel differently if I had children. I guess seeing their little eyes light up on Christmas morning as they excitedly rip open all of Santa's bounty could make me see the whole thing differently, at least for that moment. Maybe someday I will get to see it from that viewpoint. But even so, and until then, I still think I would hope to instill something more in them, something that has absolutely nothing to do with toys or decorated trees.
I can remember as a kid all of those Christmas mornings. A million presents under the tree, waiting to be torn apart with reckless abandon. Every year, within fifteen minutes the house would become one big ball of red and green crinkled-up wrapping paper. There was always so much stuff, so many new gifts to play with, and yet by mid-afternoon on Christmas day I would inevitably start to feel the emptiness sink in. It was never enough.
Looking back, I can hardly recall any of the toys I so desperately wanted during my childhood years. I do remember one year being obsessed with a boardgame that I think was called "Mystery Mansion", and then once it showed up under the tree, I don't think I even played it. Not once, I tell you. As I type this I am racking my brain trying to think of any others. Eh, it's probably not worth trying to recall them anyway. None of them seem very important right now.
I have found that for me, simple expressions work best on Christmas. A phone call. An email. A card. A hug. Even nothing at all. One year after I dropped out of the gifting rat race, I actually decided to send Christmas cards to the people who had the most influence on my life, so I bought some cards and began writing away. Interestingly, I heard it said (by more than one person) that those cards were by far the best gift that each of those individuals had ever gotten from me. I was really feeling it that year, so much gratitude and joy, and that was how I chose to share it. Expressing my truth was simple, it cost about $2 a person, and it had a real impact. Since then, I haven't even given cards every year. I only do it if it feels right. Kind of like the rest of the year, actually. There is no one time better than any other to let someone know how important they are to you. Why wait for the holidays to show or tell someone how you really feel?
Something else has taken the place of all the material gifting for me. I'm starting to think that the biggest gift we can all take away from the holiday season is the gift of tenderness. It's as good a time as any to open our hearts to one another, to feel our connectedness, and express love in whatever way we can. To go easy on ourselves, and not do anything unless it is from the heart. If you want to shop till you drop, if that is what makes you happy, then by all means do it. There is nothing wrong with any of that. But if you feel there is something more out there, something else that calls out to you, then please do yourself a favor and find out what that is.
Working in the service industry, I will say that I have experienced tenderness from behind the counter. Last year in particular, the outpouring of thanks from our regular customers at Starbucks left me, well, a little tender myself. People who for most of the year seemed to be so unaffected each morning as they rounded up their coffee with smiles and efficiency from our staff were falling over themselves to let us know how much we meant to them, and what a difference we make in their daily lives. I was surprised and genuinely touched. Some of them even baked things for us, and yes, many of them stuffed our tip jars quite generously. But the money and food were secondary to the sharing, the gratitude, and the spirit being expressed. I'm not sure if I would call it the Christmas spirit. Probably more like the human spirit, I guess.
I think that spirit, if anything, is what makes this time of year so special. It always feels like a time of reflection, of giving back, and certainly of communion with each other. A time to recognize that we are all sharing in something really special here. But really, when isn't it a good time to view life through that lens? That spirit, that distinctly human spirit, is the thing that transcends religion, age, holidays, and any other factor that keeps us all separate from each other, at least in our own minds. And, it's probably the reason why most of us seem to wish it could be Christmas every day. It really can be. That's the beauty of it. That spirit is always available 24/7, 365 days a year. It is just sitting right there, that ultimate feeling of brotherhood, waiting to be accessed at all times. And dare I say, none of it has to do with anything money can buy.
So let it be my wish for this year: that everyone can stop what they are doing, if only for a few minutes, and take a look inside. Look past the decorations, the gifts, and the obligations of the season and look into our own hearts to see what else lies beneath the shiny red and green exterior of the holidays, waiting to be expressed. If it is true that it is greater to give than to receive (and I think we all know that it is), then there is nothing more important we can do for humanity this season.
Feeling the tenderness of our own hearts, and bearing witness to the tenderness of others, is a very human thing to do. Oh, and another thing. It feels good. Not just on a holiday, but every day. This is joy and peace in the most true sense that I know. And it is my wish for everybody, myself included, to experience that bliss every single day of our existence.
From my tender heart to yours, happy holidays.
What do I have to get ready for? Am I supposed to be stressed out or something? I don't get it.
So I normally reply with one simple word: Sure. Saves alot of explanation for me.
It has been a long time since I've felt the enormous weight of the holidays on my shoulders. I used to go into a state of perpetual panic with regards to gifts. I had my list every year, and would methodically go about buying everything on it, hoping that everyone would be happy with whatever doo-dad and doo-hickey I could find for them. Then one year, while staring blankly at my page-long obligatory shopping list, I just knew I was done. Done with the worrying, done with the crowds, and done with the gifts. None of it made sense to me anymore. It's not that I didn't love my family and friends. And it wasn't that I feared spending the money. I couldn't have cared less about that. No, it was something else. Something a little more than just my angst over entering a bustling shopping mall.
For me it just felt wrong. Forced. Empty. I was done.
About eight years ago, I made the announcement to the rest of my family after we had finished unwrapping that year's slew of new stuff that this indeed would be the last Christmas I was going to participate in, at least materially. No more gifts. I sounded a bit like the boy who cried wolf at first, as I had been hinting at such a renouncement for quite a few years. But to everyone's surprise but mine, I stuck to it. And it was only fair to also include a promise that I would not be offended if anyone else did the same with me (stopped giving gifts, that is).
So it was decreed. Christmas would be a time to do whatever your heart says is the right thing to do. You want to buy presents? Knock yourself out. You want to send a card? Go for it! You want to just pretend like it's not happening? Feel free! Just don't expect me to participate in any of the reindeer games, please.
Now, I know what you are thinking. When did Paul become such a Scrooge? Eboneezer Soluri, you are quite the curmudgeon! And I can see how some people could interpret this decision as Scrooge-like. But I don't care. Sure, I might feel differently if I had children. I guess seeing their little eyes light up on Christmas morning as they excitedly rip open all of Santa's bounty could make me see the whole thing differently, at least for that moment. Maybe someday I will get to see it from that viewpoint. But even so, and until then, I still think I would hope to instill something more in them, something that has absolutely nothing to do with toys or decorated trees.
I can remember as a kid all of those Christmas mornings. A million presents under the tree, waiting to be torn apart with reckless abandon. Every year, within fifteen minutes the house would become one big ball of red and green crinkled-up wrapping paper. There was always so much stuff, so many new gifts to play with, and yet by mid-afternoon on Christmas day I would inevitably start to feel the emptiness sink in. It was never enough.
Looking back, I can hardly recall any of the toys I so desperately wanted during my childhood years. I do remember one year being obsessed with a boardgame that I think was called "Mystery Mansion", and then once it showed up under the tree, I don't think I even played it. Not once, I tell you. As I type this I am racking my brain trying to think of any others. Eh, it's probably not worth trying to recall them anyway. None of them seem very important right now.
I have found that for me, simple expressions work best on Christmas. A phone call. An email. A card. A hug. Even nothing at all. One year after I dropped out of the gifting rat race, I actually decided to send Christmas cards to the people who had the most influence on my life, so I bought some cards and began writing away. Interestingly, I heard it said (by more than one person) that those cards were by far the best gift that each of those individuals had ever gotten from me. I was really feeling it that year, so much gratitude and joy, and that was how I chose to share it. Expressing my truth was simple, it cost about $2 a person, and it had a real impact. Since then, I haven't even given cards every year. I only do it if it feels right. Kind of like the rest of the year, actually. There is no one time better than any other to let someone know how important they are to you. Why wait for the holidays to show or tell someone how you really feel?
Something else has taken the place of all the material gifting for me. I'm starting to think that the biggest gift we can all take away from the holiday season is the gift of tenderness. It's as good a time as any to open our hearts to one another, to feel our connectedness, and express love in whatever way we can. To go easy on ourselves, and not do anything unless it is from the heart. If you want to shop till you drop, if that is what makes you happy, then by all means do it. There is nothing wrong with any of that. But if you feel there is something more out there, something else that calls out to you, then please do yourself a favor and find out what that is.
Working in the service industry, I will say that I have experienced tenderness from behind the counter. Last year in particular, the outpouring of thanks from our regular customers at Starbucks left me, well, a little tender myself. People who for most of the year seemed to be so unaffected each morning as they rounded up their coffee with smiles and efficiency from our staff were falling over themselves to let us know how much we meant to them, and what a difference we make in their daily lives. I was surprised and genuinely touched. Some of them even baked things for us, and yes, many of them stuffed our tip jars quite generously. But the money and food were secondary to the sharing, the gratitude, and the spirit being expressed. I'm not sure if I would call it the Christmas spirit. Probably more like the human spirit, I guess.
I think that spirit, if anything, is what makes this time of year so special. It always feels like a time of reflection, of giving back, and certainly of communion with each other. A time to recognize that we are all sharing in something really special here. But really, when isn't it a good time to view life through that lens? That spirit, that distinctly human spirit, is the thing that transcends religion, age, holidays, and any other factor that keeps us all separate from each other, at least in our own minds. And, it's probably the reason why most of us seem to wish it could be Christmas every day. It really can be. That's the beauty of it. That spirit is always available 24/7, 365 days a year. It is just sitting right there, that ultimate feeling of brotherhood, waiting to be accessed at all times. And dare I say, none of it has to do with anything money can buy.
So let it be my wish for this year: that everyone can stop what they are doing, if only for a few minutes, and take a look inside. Look past the decorations, the gifts, and the obligations of the season and look into our own hearts to see what else lies beneath the shiny red and green exterior of the holidays, waiting to be expressed. If it is true that it is greater to give than to receive (and I think we all know that it is), then there is nothing more important we can do for humanity this season.
Feeling the tenderness of our own hearts, and bearing witness to the tenderness of others, is a very human thing to do. Oh, and another thing. It feels good. Not just on a holiday, but every day. This is joy and peace in the most true sense that I know. And it is my wish for everybody, myself included, to experience that bliss every single day of our existence.
From my tender heart to yours, happy holidays.
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