We had one not-so-favorite relative who wrote holiday letters. As I was growing up, each year brought the letter and a predictable rant from my mother, who pointed out how self-serving it was, and how annoying to read about the accomplishments of children, the enviable travels and untarnished successes of adults in that family. The dreaded “holiday letter” is not a warm and fuzzy memory from those early years.
Today, no other holiday tradition gives me more pleasure than connecting with people we have known at different times in our lives. I love reflecting on our year, pulling out the interesting parts, and sharing them. I delight in glimpses of other lives, many of them so different from our own. I enjoy reading about accomplished children, well-traveled and successful adults. I also appreciate hearing about the challenges, setbacks, and losses that come with life. Most of all, I revel in a web of connection that extends widely, encompassing the rich diversity of our fellow life-travelers and their experiences.
Why “make over” this treasured tradition and the web it weaves, catching up bits and pieces of family and friendship into a single, connected whole? Because an even better approach to web-weaving has emerged for me: Facebook!
It is no surprise that a holiday-letter junkie would love Facebook. Social networking takes the holiday letter 24-7, global, and viral. Every day my life is enriched by the successes, travels, struggles, humor and profundity of my Facebook friends. Through this remarkable technology, many relationships out of the past have become a vital part of the present. I receive inspiring words from the Dalai Lama, tips from Runners World, and reminders of local events. Photos and movies clips add color and action to the mix.
This holiday season, I wrote another letter. Pasted together favorite photos. Made copies. Updated the address book. Printed labels. Bought stamps. Printed return address labels. Folded and stuffed, sealed and mailed. We have also received a number of letters. I enjoy the surprise of personal mail in the mailbox.
But I am thinking about a makeover. Perhaps the expanding web of Facebook communication will replace the web of holiday mail with some of our family and friends. Perhaps it won’t. Still undecided.
What do you think? Do you welcome or dread the tradition of holiday letters? How do you experience the changing face of building and nurturing relationships across the miles? What is your perspective on weaving a virtual web?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Holiday Makeover: Giving and Receiving
I take on the topic of holiday gifts with trepidation. As I reflect on my personal journey of ambivalence around the tradition of gift exchange, I find pockets of pain that resist further probing. Hot buttons and exposed nerves. In spite of this response—and because of it—I am wading into the deeper water.
What could be more central to Christmas than presents? A tree without colorful boxes beneath is incomplete. “Are you ready for Christmas?” means “Are you done shopping?” Santa Claus. St. Nicholas. Three kings. How could any of this have an overtone of pain?
Should I live her a gift? What if I don’t, and she gives me one? What if I do, and she didn’t intend to? The dance of reciprocity can be awkward and painful, especially when expectations are in transition. A few years ago, I proposed that Lyle and I stop buying gifts for each other, and plan instead for a shared purchase or activity. That first year, he stopped. I didn’t. When Christmas morning came, I felt hurt despite myself. A pocket of pain.
What do we need (or want)? Many of us have all we need, and more. As I age, a lifetime collection of “stuff” is more of a burden than a treasure. Each gift brings, with the love of the giver, a mark of sentimental attachment that brands it non-disposable. A mixed blessing.
Surprise or fondest wish? Some of us love a surprise. We are pleased by a gift that reflects the giver. Others covet specific treats that they don’t indulge on their own. They want the beloved to know them so deeply that the perfect gift appears without prompting. Under the tree, we find Mr. Surprise presenting his own Fondest Wish, and wondering what went wrong. Oops!
Lyle and I have moved past that first awkward experiment, and decorative boxes under our tree are now empty. We are investing our shared indulgence in a holiday trip. We still have fun exchanging surprises with a few family members and close friends but, by and large, we celebrate in other ways.
I am reluctant to admit this ambivalence about gift exchange. It seems small-minded and ungrateful to question the purity of a practice rooted in generosity and love. I put it out there nonetheless, and welcome your response. How do you navigate the waters of change as your children grow beyond Santa, your bank balance falters, your storage area overflows, and your imagination struggles with the search for the perfect expression of your love?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
What could be more central to Christmas than presents? A tree without colorful boxes beneath is incomplete. “Are you ready for Christmas?” means “Are you done shopping?” Santa Claus. St. Nicholas. Three kings. How could any of this have an overtone of pain?
Should I live her a gift? What if I don’t, and she gives me one? What if I do, and she didn’t intend to? The dance of reciprocity can be awkward and painful, especially when expectations are in transition. A few years ago, I proposed that Lyle and I stop buying gifts for each other, and plan instead for a shared purchase or activity. That first year, he stopped. I didn’t. When Christmas morning came, I felt hurt despite myself. A pocket of pain.
What do we need (or want)? Many of us have all we need, and more. As I age, a lifetime collection of “stuff” is more of a burden than a treasure. Each gift brings, with the love of the giver, a mark of sentimental attachment that brands it non-disposable. A mixed blessing.
Surprise or fondest wish? Some of us love a surprise. We are pleased by a gift that reflects the giver. Others covet specific treats that they don’t indulge on their own. They want the beloved to know them so deeply that the perfect gift appears without prompting. Under the tree, we find Mr. Surprise presenting his own Fondest Wish, and wondering what went wrong. Oops!
Lyle and I have moved past that first awkward experiment, and decorative boxes under our tree are now empty. We are investing our shared indulgence in a holiday trip. We still have fun exchanging surprises with a few family members and close friends but, by and large, we celebrate in other ways.
I am reluctant to admit this ambivalence about gift exchange. It seems small-minded and ungrateful to question the purity of a practice rooted in generosity and love. I put it out there nonetheless, and welcome your response. How do you navigate the waters of change as your children grow beyond Santa, your bank balance falters, your storage area overflows, and your imagination struggles with the search for the perfect expression of your love?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Holiday Makeover: Stop, Look, Listen
The phrase “Stop, Look, Listen” emerged from my childhood memory bank. It was the motto for a program of awareness about crossing railroad tracks. Tracks were abundant in downtown Indianapolis, and safety around trains was a recurrent theme.
I hadn’t thought of the phrase for years. This morning, in front of the fire, it bubbled up.
This morning it is not about watching and listening for trains. It is not about watching and listening for other threats either. It is about watching and listening for life.
In the Christian tradition, we are observing the season of Advent. In Advent, we reflect on centuries of prophecy and remind ourselves that a savior is coming. We purify our hearts to receive the greatest of gifts. We open our minds to accept a miracle. Stop. Look. Listen.
In the Buddhist tradition, we practice meditation with a similar theme. We sit. We breathe. We attend to the present. We watch our thoughts, but neither grasp nor follow them. We watch our breathing, listen for sounds, tune into sensations. We stop, look, and listen.
In contemporary American tradition, we multitask. We make to-do lists. We fit more and more into the day. During the holiday season, we reach an overwhelming crescendo of busy-ness. We look forward to season’s end and anticipate the relief. Perhaps there is a better way: what would happen if we built a practice of pausing into our hectic holiday schedules?
Time alone before others wake up. A cup of tea midmorning, sitting quietly and breathing. A yoga class over the lunch hour. Fifteen minutes of reflective reading midafternoon. A hot bath after work. Bedtime prayers. Prepare for a miracle. Fully experience the present. Stop, look, and listen. No trains, safe to cross.
How will you build a pause for reflection into your day, especially during this busiest time of year? What will it take to carve out a few moments to fully enjoy the miracles of each moment and to recognize the gifts they have to offer? Stop, look, and listen.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
I hadn’t thought of the phrase for years. This morning, in front of the fire, it bubbled up.
This morning it is not about watching and listening for trains. It is not about watching and listening for other threats either. It is about watching and listening for life.
In the Christian tradition, we are observing the season of Advent. In Advent, we reflect on centuries of prophecy and remind ourselves that a savior is coming. We purify our hearts to receive the greatest of gifts. We open our minds to accept a miracle. Stop. Look. Listen.
In the Buddhist tradition, we practice meditation with a similar theme. We sit. We breathe. We attend to the present. We watch our thoughts, but neither grasp nor follow them. We watch our breathing, listen for sounds, tune into sensations. We stop, look, and listen.
In contemporary American tradition, we multitask. We make to-do lists. We fit more and more into the day. During the holiday season, we reach an overwhelming crescendo of busy-ness. We look forward to season’s end and anticipate the relief. Perhaps there is a better way: what would happen if we built a practice of pausing into our hectic holiday schedules?
Time alone before others wake up. A cup of tea midmorning, sitting quietly and breathing. A yoga class over the lunch hour. Fifteen minutes of reflective reading midafternoon. A hot bath after work. Bedtime prayers. Prepare for a miracle. Fully experience the present. Stop, look, and listen. No trains, safe to cross.
How will you build a pause for reflection into your day, especially during this busiest time of year? What will it take to carve out a few moments to fully enjoy the miracles of each moment and to recognize the gifts they have to offer? Stop, look, and listen.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Midlife Holiday Makeover
Thanksgiving. Black Friday. Small Business Saturday. The first Sunday of Advent. Cyber Monday. OK, it’s Tuesday. What holiday are we celebrating now? Something has changed since I was growing up. Most things have changed since I was growing up!
This is a time of year for traditions. If we combine the elements of darkness, cold, getting together, reaching out, eating, giving, and praying, we come up with a traditional picture of the holiday season. Traditions are powerful and they are comforting. They impose a layer of familiar ritual on our unpredictable lives and help us feel at home in the world.
But, somewhere in the middle of living, things may change:
• Grandma moves to an apartment, and no longer hosts our family gathering.
• We share our children with families of their own.
• Death and divorce, birth and marriage change the faces around the table.
• Distance, cost, weather, and stress change our plans for holiday travel.
This year for the first time, Lyle and I are celebrating both Thanksgiving and Christmas on our own. We will travel to Wisconsin in January for a wedding, and decided to connect with extended family at that time. Jonathan arrives for a few days this week while Jennie finishes her studies; they visit her parents the following week. They won’t be opening presents under either family tree on Christmas morning. Sigh.
What about tradition? What happens when the rituals we love no longer fit? One option is to sink into sadness, and many of us do. We indulge in nostalgia for times gone by. We regret the losses, and they are very real. We entertain the ghosts of Christmas past. Another option is to make a fresh start and to create new practices, beginning with basics. We can figure out what we like most, and assemble the pieces in a new and creative way.
Lyle and I have fallen short in the past. We have allowed Christmas-on-our-own to “just happen.” We have indulged in sadness, nostalgia, even tears. This year we are trying something new: renting a log cabin halfway across the state. With a modest travel commitment, we will have a different view out the window on Christmas morning. We are taking movies, music, and a jigsaw puzzle; our favorite stews and casseroles; some decorations; skis and snowshoes. And a spirit of adventure. I sense a new tradition in the making. Stay tuned!
How have the holidays changed for you over the years? How have you moved beyond resistance, to create and embrace something new? Good for you!
Until the next time, go well.
Pam Gardiner
www.wellbuddies.com
This is a time of year for traditions. If we combine the elements of darkness, cold, getting together, reaching out, eating, giving, and praying, we come up with a traditional picture of the holiday season. Traditions are powerful and they are comforting. They impose a layer of familiar ritual on our unpredictable lives and help us feel at home in the world.
But, somewhere in the middle of living, things may change:
• Grandma moves to an apartment, and no longer hosts our family gathering.
• We share our children with families of their own.
• Death and divorce, birth and marriage change the faces around the table.
• Distance, cost, weather, and stress change our plans for holiday travel.
This year for the first time, Lyle and I are celebrating both Thanksgiving and Christmas on our own. We will travel to Wisconsin in January for a wedding, and decided to connect with extended family at that time. Jonathan arrives for a few days this week while Jennie finishes her studies; they visit her parents the following week. They won’t be opening presents under either family tree on Christmas morning. Sigh.
What about tradition? What happens when the rituals we love no longer fit? One option is to sink into sadness, and many of us do. We indulge in nostalgia for times gone by. We regret the losses, and they are very real. We entertain the ghosts of Christmas past. Another option is to make a fresh start and to create new practices, beginning with basics. We can figure out what we like most, and assemble the pieces in a new and creative way.
Lyle and I have fallen short in the past. We have allowed Christmas-on-our-own to “just happen.” We have indulged in sadness, nostalgia, even tears. This year we are trying something new: renting a log cabin halfway across the state. With a modest travel commitment, we will have a different view out the window on Christmas morning. We are taking movies, music, and a jigsaw puzzle; our favorite stews and casseroles; some decorations; skis and snowshoes. And a spirit of adventure. I sense a new tradition in the making. Stay tuned!
How have the holidays changed for you over the years? How have you moved beyond resistance, to create and embrace something new? Good for you!
Until the next time, go well.
Pam Gardiner
www.wellbuddies.com
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