Boring Rainbow

(Written in mid September, delivered today, today, today and tomorrow yet.)

What is Christmas Joy, anyways?

As we wander through life’s discovery and journeys, I had an inkling that I needed to prepare for Christmas. These things come to me; thoughts that I need to prepare for something. I need to purchase things. I need to be ready. Usually there’s a delayed reason, and I’ll discover why I had those thoughts months down the road. Why those knocks came to my door and how actually listening, instead of ignoring, helps.

An example of a tiny thing: one time I knew I needed to get all of my son’s Christmas gifts in September. And so I did; and then we learned in December that there were container issues, and shipping delays, and folks were kind of scrambling. At least, that’s what the news said. But our gifts were gently and safely tucked in a closet and we were blissfully unaffected, thankfully.

Right now, again, I was thinking of Christmas. It’s too early, I know. I know. But I can’t help it when these thoughts come to me. These strange knowings, desires, maybe needs. “You need to buy your Christmas presents,” the yearning says. “You need them now.”

Only, I didn’t realize that we would need them sooner rather than later.

I thought that I would actually do a thing and explore life. Do you know what I mean? Well, I mean actually buy my presents with my hands and my body. As in, go into a store, look through her stores, and select from the experience. And I would do this for all of my gifts this year, for everyone. Turn it into a thing; a life exploration. A living, breathing experience.

We used to have these experiences all the time. But then the online ease filtered that away from us, didn’t it?

I like the convenience of it; my niece is turning… 7? And I have a gift for her but am laid up in bed, a blanket over me, typing to you because blogging is miraculous like that. You can work from pain and that’s wonderful. Anyways, I can turn to the online venues, places, and select something and have it delivered, voila! No need to walk anywhere. That’s nice. But.

But still something is stolen sometimes. Seeing the mail lady behind the counter. Feeling the new place and experience. The scent of old books and paper. Paint brushes all in a line of cups, pointed up, waiting for you. Being there; somewhere else.

So it was with the intention of follow through that I entered a kitchen store, a very special treasured kind of place where the lady who owns it gathers and collects used items of value and beauty and puts them on display for you to repurchase. I bought eight silver butter knives from her for $1.50 apiece with the thought that I would sell them for a small fortune. Will I?

Probably not but I got to dream as they wait on my counter still, two weeks observant into our busy lives, listening to our conversations, waiting for polish that will never come. They sit like lottery tickets: really, entries into dreaming, where you think, “some day I will do this with my winnings, my cache, my small fortune.”

The last dream was me taking my entire family, extended and all, to Hawaii in a big, rented house. Complete with conversations in my mind where I convince them to all go. I shared this with a cousin and she was like, “YES.” So okay, God, shift that over here, let’s.

At the antique kitchen selection store, I selected a coffee carafe for my person. It looks mid-century modern which he likes, and it has copper in it, and you light a candle underneath. I could see it outside at a campsite, on a picnic table, him reading in the morning, the candle going, the coffee drinking. The mist. The green verdura pouring everywhere. The scene was set and so I bought it, dream and all. And then we carefully tucked it away, boxed up, in my closet. And then, I kid you not, about a week later we gave it to him, my son and I.

Maybe a few days longer taxed than a week. But almost no time at all.

Because when winter comes, you need Christmas.

We are definitely in an early winter. But Winter isn’t all bad, is it? It’s light time. St. Lucia time. Time for melody, laughter, love, warmth.

If you didn’t know, Winter is that guest that entered our house through the attic door, that health journey that we are now walking. I won’t go into too many details except to say that she might be more stressful than scary, and that’s a good thing.

Because the people in my home are dealing with personal healing journeys to unfold, wade through, learn from, be imbued by and changed, my neighbor, who is an accomplished energy healer and psychic (lucky me) asked if she could do a healing. And so from afar, while we were in our home, she and a friend did one.

And they did a lot of things, and she came over the next day to tell me that she saw gingerbread in my space, and asked “What does it mean?”

Well, probably she picked up on the need for light in the dark. For Christmas.

Let’s take a look at what Christmas is:

The religious story: following a huge star in the sky. You are on a journey. Then you find a little space that’s warm and full of animals, and you give birth to a God.

Parties: many parties happen at Christmas.

Baking: the house smells like baking. There’s delicious food everywhere: from fudge to cloves to eggnog to, if you’re Italian, Ravioli made by a circle of aunties, grandmas, your mother and children. Maybe you, too.

One time I made ravioli within a circle of real Italian women, in the tiny city of Tropea, where they welcomed me, hands forming dough, the random American girl in their family at Christmas. Thank you, Alessandro from the past.

Comfort: from the food to the decorations, everything is comforting.

Lights: Beauty is everywhere, in the form of lights.

Gifts: You give and receive, and there’s a lot of joy in that.

Deliberate Beauty: Everything is deliberate. You add the tree and you decorate it. You add the lights. You add the music. The scents. The wrapping.

I don’t know how we’ll exactly incorporate Christmas into our lives. I don’t know what the gingerbread means except that maybe she nailed it. But I will be trying to add more of it into our winter. Maybe once a week make cookies. Watch wholesome movies. Deliberate action and creation of joy.

And while said person was in his own personal winter, we delivered that star, that dream of coffee — they’re all tickets to dreams, aren’t they? — and we brightened one dark night for an illuminating moment.

Presents are like that.

Stars are like that.

That’s called Christmas, I think.

I think that’s the nature of it. A light in the dark.

A light.

Lucius.