Stop All the Clocks

'Tis the Season

The days are really, really short.  Trees that surround my apartment building and shopping centers and the houses on the roads between my home and my work are lit with ‘winter safety lights.’

Black Friday has come and gone.  I resisted the urge to splurge because, well, I don’t particularly enjoy being seduced by bargain prices on things that no one I know really needs.

My daughter’s favorite channel has been all Christmas, all day.  We are five days into the countdown to the 25 Day’s ‘Till Christmas.  Does anyone besides Ryan and I see the twisted humor in a countdown to a countdown? 

I’m feeling the pressure to get out the Christmas decorations, to bring the lights indoors, to keep busy planning for December 25.

Once upon a time, Christmas came at an easy pace.  Our family waited until December had reached a real roll, put out a few decorations every day until one day, the only thing left to do was go get our tree, string on the lights, and hang the ornaments.  Things were chill.  Life was full and rich and playful.

The past three holiday seasons have had a collection of different vibes; ranging from a full meltdown in a tree farm to self-isolation in my apartment to a frenetic search for something – anything to do outside of my apartment.  The common thread has been the pervasive, empty ‘something is missing’ feeling that sets me a bit on edge.  I find myself buying into the rushed pace set by stores and television to squelch that feeling because something is not missing.  Someone is missing.  Leo had a particular skill for setting the holiday schedule, giving each of us something to do a little at a time, for maintaining cheer.  He searched out quirky gifts – going so far one year as to hide and gift-wrap a kayak.

I can say, from experience, that sharing the holidays with the people we love reinforces the joy and meaning of the holidays.  In their absence, the holidays can become a collection of tasks, lists of ‘to do’s’ to complete.  

Just between you and me, I fake it until I feel it, going through the motions, hoping that I get so caught up in the business of the holidays that I fall into the cheer.

Many will argue that I’m missing the real reason for the season.  I assure you that I am not. When your world falls apart, the reason for the season provides the strength and the true rationale for picking up the pieces. 

The process, however, is long and paved with incredibly intentional steps.  I listen carefully to carols and to the promise of a joyful ending to the long wait of advent.   Sometimes, I even sing along.  I drop pocket change into the red kettles with a prayer that my contribution will make a meaningful difference and a prayer of gratitude for all that is right in my world. I watch intently for those moments when people close to me smile or laugh in surprise at some treat or tradition.   I drink those moments deeply, feeling the after effects for a long, long time. 

I’m finding that habits and traditions from my ‘before life’ provide a framework.  They are like footsteps on a familiar path that is easy to follow and always leads home.  The consumer hype and the media hurry hearken the arrival of the time to attend to the task until the task transforms into a cheerful glow of anticipation -- like the lights in the bare trees outside.  

 

Life is Like a Box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese

I’ve written the same performance evaluation five times.

“The system” is being selective about what information it saves:  the little clickety radial buttons are safe.  The paragraphs of associated evidence written three times before I finally smartened up and typed them into a document so that all I have to do is cut and paste.  On some level, I’ve given up hope that the evidence will ever stick.

Rather than start again and further proving that I fit the definition of insanity (doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results), I’m going to consider my options.

I’m at a crossroads.  Well, I’m at another one, really.  I’ve decided that life is a collection of decision points.  You take a step, pause a bit, live a bit, experience and then evaluate.  There is no ‘done.’  We are boxes of macaroni and cheese.  We need to add water, cook for 8 minutes, stir in some milk, butter and powder and then we are done… right? 

I miss being a student in school.  Considering a next degree -- adding another collection of letters after my name.  This time I’m smart enough to realize that I can invest the time and the money and be thoroughly engaged and on the hook for a whole pile of dough in student loans.  The issue is the significant investment in this particular pass time has no real long-term pay-off at the end.  I could wear a groovy gown and fancy hat as I pick up my diploma and then what?  Being academically entertained would be good, but not at that expense.

What if this is one of those points in time where I choose another path?  I want to learn something more.  I want to stretch my capacity to think and learn in a new direction.  I want the intellectual challenge of something outside of my workday.  I want find flow moments where I am so engaged in something that the rest of my day falls away.

What if I were to invest in something all together new? What if, instead, I opted out of education related to my profession?  What if I created for myself a different possibility? What if I truly explored a different part of my brain – the artistic side that gets swallowed up by evaluations and meetings and supervision?

I think that for now, I will collect options so that I make a good decision.  Extending the macaroni and cheese idea from above, I’ll collect some good recipes – from instant to Velveeta from Martha Stewart mac to down-home chili mac.  In the end, it is all good and any decision will be better than none.