I love Christmas even when I can't.
I love the music, the scents, the lights, the gift giving (more than the getting), the baking and cooking, the get togethers, and an internal satisfied feeling inside me that switches on every year just before Thanksgiving.
Last May I stopped my work of five years; for the first time in my adult life, I would rely on a government social security check and no longer let income factor into most things I might choose.
In July I had knee surgery and all summer into fall I've been (re)learning to no longer hobble.
This week I went back to work, of sorts. I will consult for an industry where I feel at home and am regarded and respected. And in minutes I will leave for a board of directors meeting whee I have been invited to serve for the rest home where my mother lived for five years.
I am toying with developing personal growth workshops (again), maybe held in Provincetown with JB and I arranging accompanying meals for 8-10 people at a time.
I am well behind finishing my second book but it must not yet be time.
I now have four grandchildren ages six and under and I find that a blessing and a responsibility. I am indescribably grateful for each of them. And for my Jess. And for her happy marriage to a good man.
Tonight I will write out a list of people I want to see during the Christmas holidays and experiences I wish to have. I am more ambitious this time of year: I design our holiday cards, I bake and decorate cookies and miniature cakes, I write, I shop, I putter, I straighten out my desk.
Picture that my current life became a blank canvass early this summer. All of the above is filling that canvass with color and form and placement. Don't get me wrong: I'm unsure as much as I'm hopeful. I'm sixty six years old; I feel much younger; I feel wise and sure footed; and I know things could go very wrong in a flash. I know good people get sick and sometimes die.
These nights I am falling asleep with reason to worry and reason to exalt. That's the way it is. And unlike my past selfs, I am thinking less and ambivilizing (my own made up word!) less. I have time to use in a different way, without a fixed schedule and with advance thoughtfulness.
So not tonight after all, but tomorrow, I will write out my hopes and plans for my holiday. I'll start with cooking a turkey and making an apple pie for Thanksgiving.
I'll remind myself to think less and live more. I will say thank you even if that simple act is in reality not quite so simple.