Maybe it’s the season.  People are running around, exchanging gifts and spending a few hasty hours with their extended families.  The trees are hung with tinsel and lights, and holiday music has been assaulting our ears for the last month.

Maybe it’s the conditions.  The snow and ice have log-jammed travel, making each excursion more tedious and time-consuming.  The cold forces one to slow down, to move indoors and take stock.

Maybe it’s the memories.  Squeezing into new party shoes, bursting with excitement, wondering what treasures are waiting under the silver tree as the color wheel slowly turns.  Listening as Grandpa and Grandma sing old melodies, trying to pick out the complex harmonies, and dreading the moment when I was obliged to put on my coat and leave my cousins for another year.

Regardless from where it comes, it always arrives. . . laden with emotional charge and expectations.  But what does it really mean?  Is it wrapped up in ritual, a bright and shiny package crammed with Judeo-Christian mythologies, astronomical phenomena and rampant consumerism?  Or is it an opportunity for reflection, to review the accomplishments of the prior seasons and to plan for the future? 

Perhaps it’s simply time to be still, and to allow whatever it is to be without judgment, sitting with a sense of gratitude that you’ve been invited to take part.


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