November means empty seed pods. The yard and the fields are covered with the white cottony down of the milkweed seed giving a foretelling of the white that will come and lay a blanket of softness over my whole visible world. I'm still deep in the mode of Thanksgiving. Gratitude lingers and underneath it a touch of melancholy. I really have lost the motivation behind my tendency to "put on Christmas" as a one woman show. The kids are grown and we all seem to live fairly close to the financial cliff. Material proof of our love for each other no longer makes any sense. I don't know if I'd even dare to buy clothes for the guys so often some greenbacks make an appearance in a poem or card but we actually tend to give what is needed rather than what is wanted.(Isn't that what tax returns are for?) I'm holding on to the gratitude because our society's traditions for Christmas no longer feel real or even sane to me. I fondly remember the frantic schedule of working and shopping and doing all the x-mas shows, walks, parties...the photos in Santa's lap...the feeling of never being enough and trying to cover every base including the cookies, the gingerbread houses and men, the homemade decorations...I want to go take a nap just thinking about it. We always entered the New Year with a debt on the credit card that took months to cover. Now the nest is empty. The guys understand the value of money and the separation between being happy with less versus the neverending greed for more. I believe we all agree that just being together on the holiday is enough for us all. Exchanging random stuff isn't the reason for the season. So as long as I am focusing on the gratitude, it acts as a buoy for my spirits. The seeping sadness beneath is probably more about the end of our little family togetherness anyway. But I do think about the Christmas messages that we are assaulted with by marketing managers and commercials that try to tell us what we need...hiding the real agenda. That our ecomony is based on people spending money and therefore Santa is like the bellringer for the Salvation Army...only the Salvation Army is actually a litany of merchandisers like Macy's, Cabellas, JCPenny...and on and on. Children and parents are manipulated by corporations to need their products for their happiness. Such expectation breeds dissappointment. And it's sad really. People in my neighborhood are struggling to put food on the table and boots on their feet. Our family gave up on the stockings and gifts in a mountain under the tree many years ago. I must admit...it felt alot like detoxing from a drug complete with mood swings, drama and ancient dissapointments of unmade miracles.
Nowadays, as Thanksgiving and the spirit of gratitude subsides and the stirrings of the approaching Christmas season begin to quicken in my heart, I am realizing that one must pass through the sadness of old to reach deeper into the soil for what has true meaning during this holiday season. Our American culture doesn't provide anymore. Even the traditions of other cultures are fun to try on but like a fancy dress you only wear once or twice a year, it never feels wholly me because my life is a working life and I wear working clothes. I look to the seeds for inspiration...the seeds and the bulbs...and the garden. As the nights become cold and mornings frosty, I am constantly aware of what I planted and this time of the season for darkness, cold and rest. I remember my garlic bulbs under their blanket of oat straw and watch the milkweed seeds dance on the northwest winds being spirited away to a new sight where more milkweed plants can grow and bear pods and feed the hungry monarch butterflies in July and August. Nature has sealed everything in the cold and this is as it should be. The original seeds of Christmas came from human beings celebrating the Solstice...the return of the growing light and the end of the increase of the dark. Deep in my soul's soil is a place that remembers this season as a time of deep quiet, candlelight and the scent of evergreens...and always the music...beautiful music.
I go from giving thanks to wondering...what can I give? Because there is something about the season that beckons one to give. This year I've decided that it is time to open my chest and take out the mountain of beanie babies that I collected years ago and set them free...into the wild with all the animals. It tickles me. I am in the process of seeking places and people to give them too and as I release them ...more room is made in my heart. I loved collecting the animals and now I love giving them away. I am a spirit of giving. Invisible to those that recieve my gifts. Beanie babies. Seeds on the wind. An empty seedpod. Life in the air. It's really exhilerating...and who knows what will come of it? It certainly makes me feel rich and generous and for that...again...I am grateful.
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