The season of celebration approaches and we must re-imagine Thanksgiving and winter festivities. We are advised not to gather in each other's homes and people tell me that they have encouraged their families not to come or have cancelled their plans to travel. Some of us are sad and disappointed, I imagine some of us are relieved, and many of us are resigned but a few of us are thinking up creative ways to stay connected: through the screen we can at least see each other's faces.
I offer a way to shift your perspective. We have been forced to take a pause and that pause has been filled with quiet contemplation, walks in the park, and moving events online, and also with the Black Lives Matter movement shaking us awake to racial injustice and one of the most tumultuous, emotional, painful and challenging elections in history. What if we applied the lesson we are learning to a new imagining of Thanksgiving? Instead of remembering a story told from the conquering invaders, what if we returned to the simplicity of gratitude for the harvest? Not a holiday to celebrate the survival of the pilgrims but a holiday to consider reparations, repair, and restoration to Native American people? What if it was a day focused on our hearts instead of achievement and conquest? There are Native American poets featured on the Academy of American poets website as a starting place to celebrate their rich culture. Or we can listen to Native American flute or watch a youtube presentation.
We can remember all those who provide the food at our table, the farmers and those who labor to bring in the harvest, the truckers and the grocery store stockers, the bakers, the clerks. We can pause to thank Mother Earth for her bounty and reflect on how all living beings are inter-connected. We can think about our carbon footprint. Instead of feeling bad or discouraged or worried, we can decide to change something we do habitually to being more conscious and caring of our impact.
The winter celebration of Solstice is a time of remembering that in the darkness we yearn for Light and that in dark times we can contemplate what is true, where to focus our intention, and what is meaningful. The shortest day of the year and the official beginning of winter can be a time of ritual, lighting candles or fires in the fireplace or sparklers or lanterns as a way of calling in the light. Write a letter to 2020 to throw in the fire or draw things you want to let go of. You can do it as a family. Read poems. Create an affirmation to carry you through the transition to a new era.
Some people are already putting up their Christmas trees and decorations, needing cheer to face a long winter of social isolation. What if we also plan outreach to others? Bring back the delight of cards in the mail and include seniors at a nursing home. Think of how we can contribute to our community besides donations: buying tickets to the local BIPOC-led theater? Books from a local bookstore? Is it posting a positive meme on Facebook or a shout out to an artist you know to draw attention to their work?
There is healing in stillness and silence. Mindfully make the coffee and start the day with reading something inspiring instead of the news. Spend a few moments in gratitude and reflect on past joys. Is is a walk in the woods, a gathering of friends around the table, a beautiful view, a moment when your heart sang? Put on some music and dance. Take out your pen and write. Cut up magazines to collage. Creativity uplifts our hearts and you don't need a lot of supplies.
Not all of us have the privilege to be in stillness and silence. Offer your silence to the world. Give your love in small ways and bigger ways. Write an encouraging newsletter instead of just recounting what you did over the past year. Suggest inspiration: podcasts, books, music, meditations that have meant something to you.
For those in busy households with kids or parents, how can you find more mindfulness? Is it singing together or handing out glue sticks and paper? Can you slow down enough to let the kids help make meals or create a quiet reading space using a blanket? Can you play a board game or bead or build with Legos together? Do yoga or make popcorn strings to wrap around the tree? Learn a new language or listen to an audio book? Can you make clean up a game instead of a chore?
I know it takes patience and it takes cooperation. Once upon a time, we went into the dark of winter without the screen to entertain us. We sat by the fire and told stories, we mended and repaired, whittled and polished, we sat quietly. We prayed. We listened to the sounds of the fire and of the wind. We had animals to care for. We played music and we watched the stars. We made things by hand. We cherished our elders.
How can you make the holidays meaningful? What are you willing to let go of to move toward joy?
