While it's always easier to say something than to do something, it's still my job to say things. So, some definitions are in order.
Christmas Spirit: A collection of thoughts and emotions directed at a positive target -- peace.
Christmas Frenzy: A collection of thoughts and emotions that fly willy-nilly away from or spin in an ever-faster orbit around the target -- peace.
It's tough to sort it all out, and sometimes you can't get it sorted out until Christmas is over and replaced by tax time. If you're somebody who relishes tax time, you might stop and check into whether or not you're the frenzy type.
Not that frenzy's all that bad; it's just the result of all the warnings we get about holiday depression, something you've got, it seems, if you're having a quiet Christmas.
The goal of all these depression warnings is to make everybody level all the time, but what could be more boring than to be level? Never happy enough to giggle, but never sad enough to cry.
The levels are people you would invite over to paint every room in the house taupe. They'll never call the color brown, but will say it's sandy, and if you ask them for a suggestion about the curtains, they'll give you a rather non-committal “something with seashells on it.” They make a spirit person a little nervous and drive a frenzy person farther into orbit. Don't invite them to Christmas parties or put them in charge on any kind of Christmas program.
Christmas Frenzies are those people who have the tree decorated -- with lights ready to just plug in -- a week before Thanksgiving. They keep these trees, sometimes one for every room in the house, in the basement and covered with sheets that they can whip off after the last guest leaves Thanksgiving dinner.
They started their Christmas gift list in July, and by now everybody who ever smiled or nodded at them in the grocery check-out line is on the list. They burn gas at such a rate that gas pumpers can't believe their eyes when they see the VW pull in and the bill says SUV. Clerks in malls get to know, not just their first names, but their 3rd grade nickname.
And cards... They send them to everybody, including the President and most of Congress. Their Christmas dinners would make the Celtic hoards jealous. By the time Christmas is over, they wonder what happened to it and go in for a check-up, asking the doctor why they're so tired all the time.
I'm not one of these people, although they call me Scrooge. I'm not depressed, either. I'm thinking about the fox I watched one night long ago as it danced in the crusted snow of a cornfield outside a frosty window under a white moon.
Then there was the time we went out into the desert and cut sagebrush and decorated it for the house. The smell was wonderful, even overpowered the cigarette smoke!
Sagebrush is such a useful plant. The inner bark can be chewed like chewing gum, and it slacks the thirst that can develop in the winter. It can be soaked with rain or snow, yet it will catch a flame and warm more than just a body. Woven tightly, it breaks a cold wind and deflects sleet.
These are peaceful and reassuring thoughts when a person remembers those times when the night or winter were coming on and there was no place to go. In my life, I have been in such places about three times. No place to go is depression, but knowing how to make a place is its cure; it is the Christmas spirit.
If I can't write a Christmas card and hand it to somebody else personally, I don't bother with them. The ones in the store never quite say what I want to say, and the postman is so grateful not to have 500 cards to pack and keep track of that he feels like getting me something for Christmas. He usually doesn't, but it's likely he felt like doing it. That is at least aiming at the target.
The Christmas Frenzies never seem to catch on. They vow each year after the check-up that they're going to do it differently next year, if for no other reason but to teach the children around them that it's not about filling up time with busywork.
The Christmas Spirit is about making a place, one in which there is some protection from all things hurtful and full of assaults on the ears, eyes and psyche. It is a roof instead of a cell phone. It is the light of stars and not the glare of television. It is something to get under or behind to deflect the cold wind and rain. It is to be there with other living things that, simply by being there, offer reassurance that the place is good. It is not a place where “entertainment” is expected nor attempted.
If all this sounds like a stable, well.... I've been in stables, and they are among the most peaceful places.
Post a Comment
