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Empty
Stockings
Despite
some impending deadlines, I feel a little lighter than usual
for this time of year. Why? Except for a couple small things
for our daughter, my family opted out of the holiday gift
exchange.
It sounds very radical and ascetic, but really it was neither.
With a growing extended family and a tight budget, it would
have been a serious financial strain for us this year, even
at our most restrained. We didn’t like the time that shopping
(or frantically making things) took away from our other December
pursuits, or the stress it added to them. We felt uncomfortable
about the feelings of comparison that the process managed
to generate in us despite our most rational analysis and promises
not to worry too much about what was fair and what everyone
else was expecting.
This choice has been, as I expected, a really good thing for
all of our end-of-year states of mind. Our various December
rituals and celebrations don’t carry an overtone of impending
undone tasks. We are looking forward to all the visiting and
other traditions all the more because they have clearly taken
center stage.
It has certainly not made me want to forever forgo
purchasing things other than my basic wants. On some level
I miss the excuse to go out and patronize my local stores
that sell things I don’t actually need. I’ve noticed good
ideas for gifts going by and had small moments of sadness
that I wasn’t going to follow up on them. I like giving gifts,
at least when I’ve had a good idea. I like showing that I
was listening when someone said “Oh, you know what I’d love
. . .,” that I gave some thought to who they are and what
they like.
The problem is, on a good year I feel like I manage this once
or twice at best. It’s hard to do under pressure, it’s hard
to do in bulk. And yet despite having wonderful examples in
my life of people who do it exactly as I would want to do
it—throughout the year, as so moved, just for the point of
giving—I haven’t been able to make that shift for myself.
I’m wondering if freeing myself from the feeling that I need
to horde my money and creativity and generosity for December
might help.
On the flip side, after hearing that we had joined a long
list of people she knows opting for gift-free holidays, my
cousin gave a passionate defense of the role of gifts in the
winter holidays that gave me pause. “Midwinter is the season
of scarcity,” she wrote on her blog. “My life is characterized
by careful measuring of what my partner and I can afford to
trade for what our children need. . . . We keep our fists
clenched around those pennies all year long. Generally, I
am happy with this. . . . But letting go of those clenched
fists is a wonderful feeling. Surrounding that with ritual
makes the spending deliberate, conscious, and lovely. Placing
that ritual in the midst of the clenched up, careful season
of barren winter brings to me a consciousness that all of
life’s troubles come in seasons.”
Remembering abundance in the face of the shrinking light.
I know, of course, that this is at the root of all of the
winter holidays I celebrate and most of the customs I use
to celebrate them: from strings of colored lights to candles
to bonfires. Electric lights be damned, we do all feel the
changes in the light, the loss of walks, the chilly drafty
floors. But somehow I’d gotten away from thinking of all the
hoo-ha as serving a real need. Even as I cherished them, I’d
fallen into thinking of it all as a bunch of traditions I
enjoy and do in December because that’s when they are, even
if it’s a bit excessive and crowded together.
For my cousins, who are making do on significantly less than
my family is, gifts are a perfect way to remember abundance
during the short days. But for now, at least, I feel shorter
on time than stuff, and so bunches of vacation days, multiple
social gatherings per week, daily rituals like the advent
calendar and the menorah, time-consuming baking projects and
egg nog from scratch, visiting lots of family, relaxing on
the couch, watching my daughter flop on her belly to stare
at the Christmas tree—all feel to me like my cousin’s description
of letting go of clenched fists. It is luxuriant, decadent
even. Gifts of time and cheer and attention.
I imagine that, in the long run, traditional presents will
also play some role in our winter holidays. But we had to
step back this far to see why. Here’s to little gifts of light.
—Miriam
Axel-Lute
www.mjoy.org
www.albanyplanningblog.org
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