Welcome The Light — SpiritScout

Welcome to Crazy Christmas 2021! Because the pandemic landscape is changing every day, I literally don’t know whether I am coming or going. The wobbly Omni variant and various vaccine responses threaten my attempts to make plans, embrace traditions, and gather with my sugar plum fairies. I’m treading lightly these days. Is the party on or off? (‘We’ll decide the day before after polling the guests and doing tests.’—!?!) Is my eldest going to pass her Covid test and make it back in time from Turkey? My grandson’s kindergarten class is on quarantine break, is he going to be able to fly to Vermont? At what level are the beloved but unvaccinated among us permitted to participate ? Can I plan to drop in on my cousins for a visit or does that require deliberation and detente? What about my elderly mother and my friend with a heart condition? And where can I get a big stash of covid home tests? (At these prices I might be wrapping them up as gifts.) Throughout this emotional holiday hijacking I am constantly calibrating, course correcting, and recovering. At least last year I knew what to do: stay home.

If it’s been hard to find your fa-la-la lately, come sit (six feet) next to me. It might help to know that we are suffering from a global case of solastalgia, and that the holidays amplify these symptoms. The phenomena of solastalgia combines solace, desolation, and nostalgia to convey the distress of seeing our familiar landscapes and lifestyles transformed by pandemic or other environmental events. Our endemic sense of space and routine has been invaded and altered. It’s like a having a very bad case of homesickness—but you never actually left home.

While we can’t control what is going to happen, we do have a say in our response to it. Four years ago, I experienced a holiday epiphany delivered via a massive vertigo attack and I learned a valuable lesson: Let It Go. Let it all go: the expectations, the traditions, the resentments, the over-production, the people pleasing, and the performance. When I finally learned to let go of control and certainty, it was mind blowing to witness what was allowed to sprout: new traditions, spontaneous messes, collaboration, and a deeper spirit of relaxed enjoyment.

For example, I let go of the elaborate gingerbread house production we did for decades; now we paint birdhouses for our camp. This feels more in alignment with our desire for less sugar and junk, yet it’s a very festive, funky party. I used to have our home all decorated and picture-perfect for the kids’ arrival and now I don’t do anything until they show up and we decide together what feels right. We go pick a tree, set it up, go on an ornament hunt in the woods, and everyone has an emotional stake in the celebrations to come. I don’t cook ahead anymore; I just make sure that we have a full larder. I’m often delighted at what is sparked in the kitchen, many things that wouldn’t have happened had I been in my ‘Goodness Goddess’ mode.

‘You don’t have to light yourself on fire to keep others warm.’

A favorite ritual that feels spiritual and fun and can be shared at any time in person, via Zoom, or even alone, is the Solstice Fire Ceremony. We welcome the coming new light inside of us and in nature. We build a fire and clip small pieces of paper, ten to a person. On five of them we write what will get left behind this year (‘telling white lies’) and on the other five we write what will be welcomed and promoted in the new year (‘learn American Sign Language’). Each person takes a turn going to the fire, sharing aloud or silently their declarations, and then tosses them into the fire one by one. It’s a nice time to gather, reflect, and be grounded by substantive connection.

The realization of not knowing what the holidays or 2022 will bring is a humbling thing for us all, especially the planners. Instead of gliding through the illuminated path of certainty and expectations, we’ve been diverted to bushwhacking our way through each day’s challenges. When I find myself in these collective head-scratching moments it makes me wonder. Maybe knowing all the answers and solutions is not really serving us. Maybe learning how to surrender to a greater energy—Spirit, Mother Nature, God—is an opportunity to open minds and hearts. Maybe all this is preparing us for the ‘next existential’ of dilemmas and paradoxes that will need to be managed, but not necessarily solved. All I know is that staying humble and open in the midst of all this ‘not knowing’ might be the greatest gift we can give this season.