Christmas

Twisting Turning and Folding In – ND #18

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All that wrapping paper was exhausting – Photo: L. Weikel

What’s going on? Am I simply noticing the effects of growing older? Or is time actually twisting, turning, and folding in on itself?

While this may sound facetious, I’m asking this question in all seriousness.

I literally just sat here on the couch for a good hour, basking in the multi-colored glow of our Christmas tree, staring off into space. I can barely articulate what I was thinking about. Past, present, future perhaps? Possibly.

Mostly past and present, I suppose.

Lately, when I think back on Christmases past, they feel more like snippets from different lives. And to be honest, I never thought they’d feel so foreign.

Pacha’s First Christmas – Photo: L. Weikel

More to Come

I’ve caught myself thinking about this a lot lately. I’m starting to conclude that it’s a natural progression that happens to almost everyone – like aging – even though we think it will never happen to our family. In some ways, I suppose, it’s probably essential to our survival as a species. Siblings head off in different directions, each spinning their own webs of stories, memories, and interconnections.

Photos viewed decades later conjure feelings that could easily have been felt yesterday, or as freshly generated as at this very moment. Others jar our concept of ourselves and screech us to a halt in our tracks. “How could I have thought what I remember so vividly ‘knowing’ back then?” and the perennial favorite, “What was I thinking?”

It’s possible I’ll be sharing more of these musings. Santa brought a VCR converter cassette that will allow us to watch the ‘family movies’ we created over the past 30 years. How the first converter managed to get lost is a mystery. But it’s barely been missed, as the reality is that we’re not a family known to gather ’round and watch home movies – a curious fact, when you look at all the tapes we’ve amassed.

30 Years and Counting

Karl and I sprung for one of the newest video cameras available back in the day. It was ‘the’ family gift for Christmas 1991, to be precise. The sad thing about that, for me, is that my mother died that previous August – so we never got the chance to record her voice and image on video. As a result, Sage has never heard my mother’s voice or her laugh. That grieves me.

I imagine it’ll be fun and poignant watching some of these videos. Painful, too – since so many of the videos will feature Karl, of course, being our eldest.

Our memories of holidays and the people we were so long ago morph over the years. So I imagine it’s going to be a bit weird now, especially since we haven’t been priming ourselves for these memories by watching the videos year after year.

They’ll probably feel a bit like blasts out of left field, even though we’re anticipating them.

We’ll see. I’ll keep you posted.

In the meantime, we’ll keep on creating new memories. That’s what we do, right? Most of these, though, will be recorded on our phones. I wonder: will we (or our kids? or our kids’ kids?) be inclined to look back on them even less frequently?

(T+18)

Silent Night – ND #17

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Stockings Hung With Care – Photo: L. Weikel

Silent Night

I’m feeling rather quiet at the moment. Lucky for me, due to the puppies needing to go out before bedding down for the evening, only moments ago I was standing underneath the night sky searching for stars. It was the Christmas Eve night sky, although technically it’s Christmas Day. And all I could comprehend in those moments was how silent the night was, which of course made me smile. Silent night.

As I stood outside tonight I could feel a similar magic to that of the Winter Solstice, which is as it should be, since there is a kinship between the two. Both celebrate the arrival (or return) of the Light, one literally and the other metaphorically.

Ah, Magic

I wish I could bring some magic to our circumstances right now. We need an infusion of light again. I’ve encountered so many people lately whose internal batteries are running low. And these are the people who are usually the buoys for others.

It’s never a good thing to have the optimists lose hope.

There is, of course, something to be said for the awe that can completely overtake our loss of hope when we look up. When we look up, our physical eyes can see the potential limitlessness of our existence. We realize there is so much more than the day-to-day worries that so often ensnare us. And even if we’re not sure what our next move is, when we look up (and especially when we can see the stars) it’s not hard to find the courage to trust the Universe to provide.

That’s magic.

Works of art from Mongolia – Photo: L. Weikel

The Next Few Days

Over the next few days, I’m going to be looking for the magic.  And even as I write that sentence, I have to smile. Just look at the photo of the stockings hung on our mantelpiece this evening. They’re from Mongolia. Handmade by a collective of young people learning to make a living through honoring the skills cultivated in their culture over millennia, it feels like a miracle that I bought them there myself.

Who am I to have been lucky enough to experience life – if ever so briefly – on the Mongolian steppe? And what a blessing is it to have these tangible and exquisitely crafted reminders hanging on our mantel?

That, too, is magic.

Wishes

I hope all of you are having a wonderful holiday, filled most importantly with love, warmth, connection, peace, and good health.

Don’t be afraid to look for the magic. And I’m saying this especially to those of you who are losing hope or finding yourself feeling sad or lonely. If you ask for some magic, it will come.

Believe.

(T+17)

Cookies – Day 409

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Oatmeal cookies (Trust me there were more) – Photo: L. Weikel

Cookies 

We decided to forego the normal Christmas fare this year. In fact we were pretty lackadaisical on the food front overall. (Anyone who knows me, knows that’s not a big stretch for this forager.)(And no, that’s not any type of romanticized version of a forager. I’m talking refrigerator and cupboard foraging.)

Anyway, probably because I’d declared publicly that I wanted to read, I decided instead to bake cookies.

Yeah. Don’t look at me like that.

I baked oatmeal cookies on Christmas Eve and peanut butter cookies today.

And tomorrow, because I’m a glutton for punishment (and I’m also clearly not on the timeline most people are, since the holiday baking is supposed to be complete by now, isn’t it?), I’m actually going to try my hand at making Aunt Grace’s kiffels. (This is the same Aunt Grace who would make the walnut torte as our birthday cake.)

Blowfish

I feel like, if you looked at me right now, I’d resemble a blowfish. I’ve probably eaten more cookies today than I’ve eaten in a year. I have to admit, though, while they may not be the traditional holiday cookies with sprinkles and cutouts, they are exceedingly tasty morsels.

Photo: zmescience.com

I’m actually looking forward to giving the kiffels a try. I feel as though I’m on a roll here on the baking front. So I might as well strike while the oven is hot. (Yeah, I know. I broadcast that one well in advance. You knew it was coming and I didn’t want to disappoint.)

Sugar Snark

Clearly I’ve had too many cookies. I’m writing this post with such wanton abandon that I feel as if I’ve had a couple stiff drinks. I do believe it must be the sugar. I’m punch drunk on cookie dough.

I hope everyone had a memorable day of family, friends, food, and fun – and not too much drama.

I need to get to bed. It’s kiffel time tomorrow!

Peanut butter cookies – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-702)

All’s Quiet – Day 407

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Rainbow – Photo: L. Weikel

All’s Quiet    

I’m sitting here in the silence of my living room (if you don’t count the snoring of Sheila and Precious) – and it is exquisitely delicious.

Karl and I took a walk tonight, once I finally got home from doing some errands. The sky had a smattering of clouds, but we could still see a vast array of stars splashed from one horizon to the other. What we really noticed the most, though, was how quiet everything was.

It almost felt as though we were walking during a snowstorm. You know, that muffled silence that always accompanies falling or freshly fallen snow? In fact, I just read something about that the other day. The muffling of ambient noise is attributed to the fluffiness of the snow, I think – the air trapped between the flakes.

I don’t know; I can’t really remember. It doesn’t actually matter, since snow was not the cause of the quiet tonight. Perhaps it was the sound of people starting to slow down, to take a breather from the inevitable frantic pace that precedes this time of year in particular.

What We Really Want

It’s easy to pick on the materialism of our society and criticize the obligation so many people feel to give gifts to ‘everyone on their list.’ We’re a consumptive society. It’s been ingrained in us all our lives that the way to show someone you care about or love them is to buy them something. And even worse is when people equate the depth of the love to the cost of the gifts.

We’re bombarded from every direction with messages barking at us that this widget or that doodad will make the difference. We’ll know we’re loved or, perhaps even more importantly, we’ll know we’ve made it (or at least tell ourselves we have) if we can give that impressive doodad. And if we can’t? Well. Many feel an overwhelming desire to fake it – and there are lots of ways to fake it.

But I think the real burden is the desire to express heartfelt caring and not knowing, really, how to give that feeling. How do we go about bringing light into someone’s life?

Maybe it’s by sitting quietly and figuring out what would bring light into our own life. Maybe it’s by listening to what our heart is saying over and over and over again – hoping that one day we’ll actually stop and listen.

Time

As we were walking in the starlight this evening, Karl and I talked yet again about having – or, rather, not having – gifts to give each other this year. Neither one of us wants for anything. We are surrounded by an abundance of comfort; indeed, we have too many ‘things,’ if we’re honest. And we have zero desire to buy stuff just because – whether it’s because we don’t want to or because it’s expected.

We don’t need new clothes. In truth, we don’t need anything that can be bought in a store (besides groceries; we do love to eat). Even the most exotic boutique of hand-crafted amazingness would fail to provide the gift that is most precious to both of us. And that is time. Time together. Time to create. Time to read. Time to listen to music. Time to feed our souls. Time to allow ourselves to stop thinking about selling or buying or going to meetings or paying the bills, but instead to stop thinking altogether.

Our greatest gift to each other is making – and taking – time to walk under the stars and listen to the silence. Time to notice and appreciate the quiet, together.

(T-704)

Tradition and Evolution – Day Forty Four

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Tradition and Evolution

Overall, this Christmas was a grand experiment in shifting from one way of being to another. It felt like we were embarking upon a true transition from ‘the way we’ve always done things’ to ‘a new way.’ Just like any transition, it had its rough patches.

I’d say most of that evolution centered around the family ‘meal,’ which is probably where the vast majority of ‘tradition’ resides in many households.

Most of us in the family eat meat, but rarely. Others of us, however, eat meat never. And then there are those of us who not only don’t eat meat at all, but also do not eat anything even remotely associated with animals. No butter. No milk. No cheese. No eggs. Yes, there’s now a vegan in our midst.

Turkey Sandwiches Remain a Priority

We checked in before the holiday, and determined that turkey was still a hoped-for agenda item with those of us who still appreciate the sacrifices of our feathered brethren. Truth be told, it’s the turkey sandwiches on the horizon that are the real lure here. Piled high with stuffing savory and juicy from cooking in the bird, the turkey slices will nestle between a layer of cranberry sauce and mayonnaise, all held together with a multi-grain, seeded bread. Oooh yeah.

It’s hard not to feel sorry for those who no longer (or never did) enjoy the unparalleled goodness of leftover turkey sandwiches. But alas, that means there’s more for us who pander to our inner Neanderthal. (Which, parenthetically, 23andme tells me is part of my genetic makeup.) (Yeah, it explains a LOT.)

I have to admit, though, in preparing the mashed potatoes both the ‘old’ way and the ‘new,’ the difference would be something I could evolve toward. I’d miss the buttermilk and butter. But it could work.

The green bean casserole without the mushroom soup? Satisfied my vegan but not my vegetarian. I don’t know if I can make that leap yet either.

At Least My Stuffing Is Vegetarian-Approved

My stuffing is vegetarian-approved even when prepared as history dictates. It’s just the portion that cooks inside the bird that’s taboo. So that’s an easy compromise: that especially juicy stuffing can go on my turkey sandwich; thanks.

All, in all, though, I probably could have stepped up my game as far as the ‘protein’ I prepared for my ‘Vs.’ I thought sautéing some vegan sausages with onions and red peppers would make a nice addition to the stuffing, mashed potatoes and green beans, but the expressions on their faces said, “Meh.”

I’ll work on that for next year.

And who knows? As our lives evolve and we witness the cataclysmic results of accelerating climate change day in and day out, it would not be outside the realm of possibility to imagine us going at least totally vegetarian by next year. Probably not vegan; not yet.

Although, I suppose, stranger things have happened.

As a family, we’re game to honor and appreciate our traditions while also exploring ways we can evolve and expand the way we walk forward into the future.

All that really matters is that we do it together.

(T-1067)