I was taking my shoes off at the top of the stairs after a gig; sure, I’d had a couple glasses of wine over a three hour show, but that is not very much at all. I’d done this maneuver a thousand times without a single problem, so when the push came, and I lost all sense of up and down, all I could do was scream.
Michael rushed from the kitchen in time to see my legs flying down the stairs, while my cries of “oh shit oh shit oh shit” resounded through the stairwell. He saw my face hit my hardshell guitar case, heard my shirt rip, saw me bounce, roll, and hit the floor like a ragdoll as he helplessly whispered “oh shit oh shit oh shit” right back.
[Full disclosure: this happened about 4 years ago, not last week. My apologies to those I alarmed needlessly!]
Clearly, I wasn’t dead. I was badly bruised, I had lots of abrasions, and a goose egg on my forehead where my face hit the guitar case. My glasses were demolished. My shirt had torn around my neck, leaving a long, nasty scrape that welled up with blood. My knees were also bleeding, and I couldn’t control my body temperature. I was not dead, but I was not at all okay.
Why am I telling you this? As usual, I want you to learn from my mistakes. There are certain times of the year, and a perfect example is coming on like a freight train, that put us right into a state of overwhelm because we just can’t do enough, give enough, buy enough, spend enough, save enough, satisfy enough people, go to enough parties, get enough goddamn good cheer and fun and holiday fucking spirit.
We find ourselves saying, “Oh my god, I wish these stupid holidays were over and I could finally just relax!”
Oh, do be careful what you ask for. Oh please do. Because more often than not, what we say emphatically and with extreme passion (or umbrage) becomes reality. We don’t have to ask for it, we just have to want it really bad for just long enough to inject our Will into the Code of the Universe, and bam. We’re on the couch for a week covered in bandages, ice packs and heating pads, barely able to walk. Or worse. Some of us Northern Hemisphere dwellers have immune systems in shock from insane weather changes, so we’re hugely susceptible to every bug out there.
I’ve been doing a lot of reading about Karma recently, and I keep getting more and more convinced that all suffering, no matter how overwhelming or how insignificant, is Karma. When we throw up our hands and angrily demand something unreasonable, we let Karma know we’re ready to pay off some Karmic Debt by suffering. And Karma delivers at the speed of “oh shit oh shit oh shit.”
The opposite of what we need to do at these times is suck it up and power through without a single word of complaint.
I use three main strategies for rational holidays.
- They are supposed to be fun, and perfect has nothing to do with fun. There is no such thing as perfect. Normal may be a setting on the dryer, but perfect isn’t even that much. Trying to make things perfect is, actually, insane. So don’t. Shoot for a healthy dose of “No doubt everything is unfolding as it should.” Laid-back. Easy. I want my guests not on their phony-baloney best behavior; I want them to be so comfortable that the best of who they really are can come out and play.
- Just say No. A lot. My parents, gods love ’em, decided that we were going to be home for the holidays, and if anybody wanted to see us, they knew where to find us. We hung out in the living room eating waffles and opening presents. Holidays were an excuse to crash out and read all day. (All day!) Mom went nuts making cookies and candies, but that was how she expressed creativity and love, and I think she really did love to do it — and that’s absolutely fine; if it makes you happy to get up to your eyebrows in something, go for it. But if it’s a slog, don’t. Big dinners? Some people live for ’em. At my house last Thanksgiving my girl Stubby and I had pumpkin soup and made date cookies. Done. Easy. And we felt great and had plenty of time to chill on the couch watching Wyrd Sisters after.
- Give services instead of stuff. Lots of locals are doing eGift cards, which require no going out in the world and are nearly effortless to order. Find out who does your bestie’s hair and get them a gift certificate for a little extra spoiling at the salon. Massages are always welcome and needed, especially after the holidays when we’re detoxing from all the food and drink and food and drink and food . . . Or float tank time, Tarot sessions, and of course sound healing. Want to do something really fun? Get tix for events that you can do with your friends, like Brush and Barrel, community theater, or concerts, and make a night of it. Gift certificates don’t have to be boring — they can be magic.
It doesn’t have to be stressful and nutso. Start setting boundaries now. Sure, you will piss a lot of people off, but you are answerable first and foremost to yourself. Here’s your new catch phrase:
“If somebody expects some big-ass production, they can produce it themselves.”
Oh yeah that feels good.
All that being said, if you truly do live for the chaos and the insanity because it’s the one time of the year that you have a license to be as bat-shit as you wanna be, go for it. I will happily book an appointment with you to bust your stress and reharmonize your bat-shit self after the chaos is over.
I have read a piece by Victoria Safford to my family at many holidays over the years. They might be tired of hearing….perhaps I should reconsider this year. It is difficult to finish this piece without tearing up because I find it so beautiful. Here it is:
The Moment of Magic
—by Victoria Safford
Now is the moment of magic,
when the whole, round earth turns again toward the sun,
and here’s a blessing:
the days will be longer and brighter now,
even before the winter settles in to chill us.
Now is the moment of magic,
when people beaten down and broken,
with nothing left but misery and candles and their own clear
voices,
kindle tiny lights and whisper secret music,
and here’s a blessing:
the dark universe is suddenly illuminated by the lights of the
menorah,
suddenly ablaze with the lights of the kinara,
and the whole world is glad and loud with winter singing.
Now is the moment of magic,
when an eastern star beckons the ignorant toward an un-
known goal,
and here’s a blessing:
they find nothing in the end but an ordinary baby,
born at midnight, born in poverty, and the baby’s cry, like
bells ringing,
makes people wonder as they wander through their lives,
what human love might really look like,
sound like,
feel like,
Now is the moment of magic
and here’s a blessing:
we already possess all the gifts we need;
we’ve already received our presents:
ears to hear music,
eyes to behold lights,
hands to build true peace on earth
and to hold each other tight in love.
Oh! How beautiful! Yes, I will read that to Michael on Yule. He will love it, too. Thank you for the gift of poetry!