A Fresh Start

It doesn't much feel like the holidays. Is it the lack of snow that I'm so used to associating with this season? Or it's that in growing older the mythology that comes with the holiday season is no longer mysterious or mythic? Maybe it's just that this year was meant to be low key throughout?

Nevertheless, I do enjoy the idea of Boxing Day. So what if it's Canadian? Just the idea of boxing things up, putting things away, "Spring Cleaning" as such -- even if it is the dead of winter. There's something to be said for clearing out the clutter. For putting things away that we no longer need for now. Making sure to dust off and keep what's important and appreciate those things as well.

Although I hate cleaning, isn't it true that a clean and organized house does make a person feel so much better? Not just physically, but spiritually as well. It's a fresh start and everyone deserves a fresh start.

So, for the end of the year, my goal is to clean out my closet. Yes, to clear out the things that have been in the shadows for so long. To let things go so that new things are allowing to come into my life. And those "things" don't have to be material.

In the past, letting go and letting live lifted the load I'd been carrying on my shoulders. And actually, once I let those "things" go it lifted the load off of my physical frame as well. A nice perk.

In the present, the hard part is figuring out what is is that I need to let go. What it is that I'm holding on to? Not seeing what is right in front of my face is a specialty of mine. (I don't say that proudly, it's just a fact.)

It's a challenge that I both look forward to and abhor. It's terrifying and exhilarating. It's choosing to live instead of letting life go numbly by (guilty of this as the next person. And, it requires unplugging and being present in the world.

The New Year is always great for that. I have a friend who years ago told me he was going to spend his New Year in silence. Literally unplug. At midnight he would unplug his clock, his lights, his phone, his television, his radio and all his other power items. The only thing he would leave plugged in is his refrigerator and he would put aside a watch so that he knew when it was midnight again. For 24 hours he would be in silence. He wouldn't talk to anyone or listen to music or watch TV. Basically, a silent retreat.

It's appealing isn't it? Sometimes I turn on the noise because in silence the noise of my own thoughts is shattering. Shattering to my way of being. To my soul and to my spirit. To my life. You want to know what the funny thing is? It always turns out that if I face the silence I'm more whole than I've ever been. There's the irony. The shattered pieces are pieces that I didn't need. And so they're cleaned up and I get a fresh start. I love the fresh start.

The Rarest Angel

I look over. What's that? A lone golden helium balloon has been attached to the Christmas tree. At the top. Ha ha. An attempt from my sister at trying to decorate the top of the tree.

Flashback to a month and a half ago. Shoppers everywhere. It's a madhouse. I'm at Michael's looking for tree toppers. There are some beautiful angels. Really. Great fabric dresses and gorgeous craftsmanship. There is only one problem. The angels are blonde. After looking there I go to Linen's N Things and Target and it's the same thing. Blonde, blonde, blonde. Are there no brunette angels? Is there a rule that brunette's can't be angels?

I tell my sister and she says I'll have an easier time finding African American angels than finding a black haired angel. Ha! I say. I'll find one!

No I won't. It's 3 days before Christmas. Searching Amazon and the web has proven my sister to be right. All the angel toppers with black hair are African American and the rest are Blonde, Blonde, Blonde.

I'm getting frustrated and actually upset. Upset over a stupid tree topper that is supposed to be a happy, joyful thing. The true meaning of this season is not about anger or "things" -- it's about gratefulness, grace, and celebration of life, right? So why am I expending energy on getting upset because angels don't have black hair?

This is the argument I've had with myself. To the point that I've given up. My tree will remain angel free until that rarest of all angels makes its way to me somewhere, sometime in life.

Until then, the gold helium balloon adds a little humour to the whole tree and it makes me smile when I see it. For those who celebrate--A very Happy Christmas. For those who don't--A very Merry New Year.