“Get into
the Holiday Spirit” say the TV ads, the radio stations, Internet, and most
every flier through the mail. This phrase would like us to think we can put on
this state of mind like a jump suit.
Always,
the admonition to feel better and brighter is equaled with generosity. The
action of being generous, of course, has the underlying message of “Buy
this". We are to believe our “holiday spirit jump suit” can be purchased
from them in some form or another. I don’t ‘buy’ it anymore, and I haven’t
since an experience I had many years ago.
It was in
1984, I believe, as I struggled with trying to do all, be all, have all, etc.
Money was extremely tight. My husband, myself, and two pre-teens, were living in
our 8X40, un-insulated, 24 year old trailer. The toilet was five doors away.
Our shower was tucked into a different out-building with its own ancient pot
belly stove.
Dashing
back and forth between this home and town meant driving a curvy, five mile distance
on a dirt road that took twenty minutes to navigate, and that was on a good
day. When it was rainy, icy, or snow-covered, its navigation required more
attention. I always felt as if I was clinging to the steep mountain rise on one
side so as to prevent me toppling down the ravine into the creek on the other.
Consequently
I tried to make only one round trip a day. One pre-Christmas day, I believe I
was on my third trip. I was alone, gripping the steering wheel, wishing I could
drive faster, but also aware of the multiple projects, school event planning,
my three jobs, etc. dashing through the ethers of my brain. My stomach was in
knots, my head hurt, and my chest could barely rise for all the pressure
sitting there. I was stressed beyond my limits.
Snow had
been gently falling all afternoon. One over-large snow flake caught my eye as
it danced and swirled to the canyon floor. I pulled our VW van onto a shoulder
of the road, turned off the radio and the motor, and sat in a space of silence
that was profound. One deep breath didn’t penetrate past my wind pipe, nor did
a second one. The third and fourth managed to be deeper. On my fifth, I felt my
shoulders loosen.
A black
blur crossed my vision from left to right. I leaned forward over
the dashboard and spied a raven swooping up and down and around until it
landed on an evergreen branch where a blob of collected snow toppled to the
ground.
Pulling
my keys from the ignition so my scooting out the door would be soundless, I
stood ankle-deep in the snow. I wrinkled my nose at the cold wind and fumbled
for my knitted cap in a pocket. Another sigh brought my whole body to rest.
Two more
ravens joined the first. They sat heads tilted to the sky until one grunted.
That started a series of ‘tsks’ and mutterings between them while they
continued a kind of balancing act on their individual branches. They didn’t
have special food, grandly wrapped presents, cheery music, or even a warm fire.
They had each other, and they were sharing a moment in their lives. “How
gorgeously simple,” I thought.
The Earth
herself was there too, swathed in white, her presence nurturing the lives of
all standing on her. The peacefulness in that moment was as comforting as it
was intense. Now I was overwhelmed with a new reality, one of 'beingness'!
Stopping
my life for a few minutes on a wintry day was the best action I’ve ever taken.
I can still access that memory, even though I’ve kept the accelerator pressed
to the floor board for a few days or years. The flight of a raven or drop of
snow or even a splatter of rain can jolt the essence of that moment throughout
my body. I slow down, and breathe, and consider my surroundings.
Recently
during an illness that dropped me toward depression, I stood at a window
observing a grey day, full of huge rain drops splattering on the cement walk to
my front porch.
Chirping
drew my attention to the top of my naked plum tree where a dozen chickadees
flittered from one twig to another. I
watched as a few at a time plopped themselves onto the roof of my garage. They
were queuing up, to bathe in the brimming rain gutter. They seemed to cheer
each other on with cheeps, splashing themselves and anyone next to them. Each
would jump out, fluff its wings, and then jump back into the flowing water.
What was dismal to me was delightful to them. Another lesson in simplicity.
May the
peace and simplicity present on our Earth lighten the burdens we all feel we
need to carry on our shoulders.
May we
slow down enough to share moments of connection with our loved ones, our friends.
May we
all embrace, with gratitude, the blessings in our lives and fill ourselves with
the Spirit of grace and harmony all year long.
(Christmas, 2014)
