Here we are again. That time of year when many of us race around like mad demons proclaiming our angst about all of the many things we “have”to do to ready ourselves for the holiday season. Many head to the nearest mall with a list of names checking them off as purchases are made for things that will find themselves in the goodwill bin the next year and credit card bills that will prove difficult to pay. Houses are cleaned, trees are bought and the midnight oil is burned as plans are made for the so called perfect Christmas. The holiday season comes with a kind of stillness that many miss. Conversation with a friend recently left me feeling exhausted as the sound and pitch of her anxiety centering around her to do list soared off the chart. It is difficult to exist in this mayhem where many choose to live especially at this time of year. “Are you ready for Christmas?” they ask. My mind screams it is coming, whether I am ready or not.
Yesterday I had lunch with a friend who has recently been told that his cancer has returned. I do not bring it up as he is having such a wonderful time of gaity and it is a moment to just be. In the back of my mind I am sad. I don’t want him to die and I don’t want time to march on. He knows that we are here for him however the journey goes. He will have to begin treatment as the new year comes in and I know it will be difficult. Not only for him but for his wife as well. This year I do not think they are playing into the plastic madness of the season.
I wonder about our lives and how much we all take for granted. We are guilty of walking through life as if we are promised tomorrow or the next breath. I don’t want to take anything for granted but I often do. I find myself forgetting how important it is to let others know we care or finding the time to sit still for a moment. So many have become too busy to simply be and listen. Our lights are brighter and our tree may be bigger but we are crazed. We seemed to have forgotten the reason for the season. There is a stillness this time of year but through the clanging of pots, pans, and cash registers it is difficult to hear.