One of the more obvious frictions in post England Christmas is Santa Claus. I started with Father Christmas who personified the season, but belief in him was never a requirement for presents, most of which were clearly marked with who they were from. The lack of magical thinking never hurt my Christmas experience and it made me value the relationship with the person who got me the present. The Santa Claus thing is still a foreign concept to me.
I enjoy the aesthetics of the season, especially the lights that hold back the prodigious darkness and the trees. I have no trouble with icons of mid-winter celebration and I even enjoy it astronomically. We're at the lowest ebb of light in the year; the darkest days. After these weeks the sun begins its long journey back to us, what's not to love about that?
Today I was kindly let out of work a bit early to go and give blood and volunteer at my Lodge's annual Christmas blood donor clinic. It's about the most noncommercial thing you can imagine. Considerate, thoughtful people giving a piece of themselves to help out others with no expectation in return. No one was fighting over parking spots outside, no one looked stressed out and frustrated. The feeling in the room was lovely and the 'merry Christmas' wishes were genuine and heartfelt. From that I rushed back having not eaten and given blood to observe the sugar fuelled extravaganza of my my son's school's Christmas pageant back in the real world.
|I know the feeling|
In the next week I'm going to go to a lot of family functions, none of them mine. The family I wish I could see are far away (and I have no Christmas tradition with them any more). The family who are close have fallen apart. The glue that used to keep us connected ended herself. That this wears me down doesn't mean I love my people any less, but it does often feel like I'm sitting in a room full of shadows, watching traditions that are familiar but foreign.
My work also feeds into this gravity around Christmas. Kids who cling to the holiday tend to ram it down the throats of those who dislike or even fear it. The emotional tension in the school slides up the scale as the holidays approach and the friction between the haves with their dreams of more stuff and the have-nots fearing two weeks of disappointment at home cause sparks to fly. That this wears me down doesn't mean I love my job any less, though I wish people wouldn't be such insensitive jerks about the whole thing.
I wish Christmas had a little more grace and a little less insatiable need to it. There doesn't seem to be a lot of time to ponder the return of light to the world at the darkest time of the year.
One of these days I fear the emotional weight of this holiday will tear something inside me. Fortunately the days keep happening and it's soon behind me. New Years isn't the social event it used to be, but I enjoy that chance to turn a page and think about all the potential of a year that hasn't happened yet.