Christmas: a job or a joy?

"OK girls, I thought that this year since you are both teenagers we could skip the Christmas tree thing and save ourselves a bit of work. What do you think?"
The girls looked at me in horror. How could their mother be such a "Grinch"?
"What do you mean no Christmas tree?" they said in unison with an incredulous look on their face.
"Well, I didn't think you would mind because you don't help me decorate the tree or to take the tree down after the holidays so I thought you didn't care one way or the other" I said in my defence.
"Oh no, you are wrong! We do care. It would not be Christmas without a traditional Christmas tree in our family room"
Maya was the most passionate of the two. She said "Nadia had Christmases with all the trimmings every year of her life. She is now eighteen. You have to keep decorating the house for Christmas and get me an Advent chocolate calendar for at least another four years until I am also eighteen just to be fair!"
"What about a small artificial tree on stand instead?" I bargained.
"No. It's got to be a regular tree with all the trimmings." they insisted
"Are you going to help me decorate it then?" I asked.
"Of course we will!" they said. (We'll see about that...)

There seems to be two experiences of Christmas in our household: mine and theirs. My experience of Christmas is a mile long "To Do" list, dish pan hands from cooking and cleaning, blistered feet from shopping which leads to exhaustion by the time the big day arrives (a bit like planning a Wedding every year and looking back at the end of the day and saying to yourself "that was great but I can't believe it is already over after all those months of preparation". Their experience (I'm referring here to my husband and my two daughters) is one of Eggnog sipping, desert sampling, and afternoons of relaxing watching Christmas shows on TV.

I don't know how I have inherited the job of Christmas master decorator, baker, shopper, gift wrapper, and all around Christmas cheer maker. And to be perfectly frank, I resent it most times.

To be truthful, I am fully responsible for this state of affair. Something has got to change... I don't want to dread all the work ahead of me to prepare for Christmas. I want to have a happy Christmas this year. I want to enjoy the whole experience and make choices with my eyes wide open.

Is decorating the house an obligation or a fun activity? It is a matter of perspective wouldn't you say? Aside from the Christmas tree (which is a non-negotiable apparently) I don't think the girls really care which Christmas knick knack I take out of the boxes in the basement. I know that my husband won't even notice if I decorate the house or not.

There are no rules that say that if you are a good mother you bake several batches of Christmas cookies and stock your freezer full of brightly coloured tins filled with million calories worth of sugary treats. (Is there?)

And for the longest time I believed that a gift was an indication of how much you loved someone therefore I would put myself under huge pressure to find the "perfect" thing to express my feelings. By the time Christmas rolls around I am so tired from all the preparations and so anxious to get everything just right that I have to admit I am not much fun to be around. What if I reframed my thinking? What if I chose a new belief: a gift is just a gift and what makes someone feel special and loved is the quality time you spent with them.

As they say "If it is meant to be, it is up to me". So I started "Operation Happy Christmas 2010" this very day. I asked each of my daughter what was their favourite Christmas decoration and took those out. I went through all the boxes of decorations and only took out my favourite ones and I enjoyed finding special spots for those decorations throughout the house. The house looks festive and I am not missing the decorations from Christmas past that remain packed away in boxes.

As for the baking, I've earmarked a Saturday in mid-December and we will make it a family affair. We will each bake our favourite Christmas cookie while listening to Christmas music and drinking eggnog. We will only be making four recipes this year - one recipe per person. That should be plenty! And, it will be fun too!

This year, I want to give experiences to the people I love rather than store bought gifts. I will buy tickets for concerts, plays, or sports events and enjoy an evening in the company of my loved ones. Making memories together is better than a gift card from a big box store any day!

What about you? Are you an overworked Christmas elf or a cheery Mrs Claus at Christmas time? Will you do anything differently this year at Christmas time?

Fleeting Moments

Spring time is my favourite season. I love watching Mother Nature putting on her green coat with a sprinkling of tulips and daffodils. Alas... the season is fleeting. It seems like just the other day I caught my breath as I looked at the apple tree in bloom. The tree looked like a giant pink cotton candy and brought a smile to my face. But today the flowers are already fading. The petals are floating to the ground with each breath of the wind covering the base of the tree in a pink shroud.

Nature gave me a fleeting gift of a tree in bloom. I am glad that when I saw it, I actually saw it. Not just with the corner of my eyes as I was driving by but I saw it with my whole being. I "saw" the apple tree in bloom and registered in my head and in my heart how beautiful it was. I felt awed. I felt grateful for witnessing nature at work in all its grandeur.

Recently I read an article in the Yoga Journal magazine by Frank Jude Boccio entitled I'm so happy for you. Boccio explores the concept of impermanence. When we are aware of the impermanence of things it can enhance our ability to touch joy, even for just that moment. Boccio writes:

"Both Patanjali and Buddha emphasize that much of our duhkha (suffering or discontent) arises because we live as if the current conditions were permanent." When things are going well, we attempt to live as if they always will (...) And when things are going poorly, we imagine that this will always be the case, forgetting that bad times too will pass."

When one becomes conscious of the fleeting nature of all things, including ourselves, we do not take anyone or anything for granted. That is what they call living mindfully. When you are in the presence of something that fills you with joy, you soak in that moment. On the other hand, when you face difficulties or setbacks you may be more resilient because you know that this too shall pass.

This notion of impermanence has taken on a greater meaning for me this week. On Monday I got an emotional phone call from my 80 year old father informing me that the nagging pain he had in his lower abdomen for the past few weeks was in fact cancer. Four days later, the surgeon took out a tumour the size of a grapefruit from his abdomen. Now we are waiting for the lab results...

Since I found out that my father had cancer, I have been on an emotional roller coaster. Yes, in my darkest moments, I have reflected on the possibility of losing my father to cancer. What would my life be like without his loving presence? We live in the same town, we talk on the phone and visit every week. He has always been there for me, as a child and today, as a parent myself.

Memories of my father have danced in my head this last week. The small things stand out. The heart-shaped sandwiches and homemade valentine he would leave by my bed on Valentine's Day. The mashed potatoes and milk he coloured green in honour of St. Patrick's Day. The cartoon characters shaped pancakes he would make (and sometimes still makes upon special requests) on Saturday mornings. My father's big hand holding mine on the way to church when I was a child and years later, as I was crying over a boyfriend who broke my heart as a young adult. The chocolate icing cake (as my daughter's affectionately call it) that he makes especially for his grand-children's birthdays. The homemade 3D personalized birthday cards that he makes for everyone of his children, grand-children, brothers and sisters every year without fail.

Some of those things I truly appreciated in the moment, especially the birthday cards which are the highlight of my birthday every year. (A few years ago, I celebrated my 45th birthday on a trip in Kyoto, Japan, with my husband. Even though we had a spectacular day visiting temples and shrines, something was missing. When I got back home, my father gave me my birthday card and it seemed then, and only then, that all the pieces had fallen into place.) Other things, I took for granted. They made me happy at the time but I did not realize how memorable they would become.

I regret that I was not conscious of how meaningful and joyful those ephemeral moments were when I lived them. I don't think I knew then that forty years later those heart-shaped sandwiches would still mean so much to me. If I could go back in time, knowing what I know now, I would savour those moments. I would take a picture in my mind's eye to capture the feeling of happiness and contentment forever.

Knowing what I know now, I will gain courage in knowing that this difficult and painful time is also impermanent and that happier times are ahead.

Knowing what I know now, I will seize every opportunity to tell my father that I love him and that I am grateful for all the loving kindnesses he has given me over my lifetime. I will keep savouring each and every impermanent moment with him in the years to come, once he has beaten his cancer. And maybe, just maybe, it will make up for all those years when I lived happy moments with my eyes closed.

In fact, knowing what I know now, I vow to live my life in the present moment. Not longing for the past or blaming the past. Not planning for the future or worrying about the future. Living in the now, feeling the happiness of happy times and the sadness of sad times.

Knowing what you know now, is there anything that you would like to do differently? By reminding yourself of the transitory nature of life, what joys take on more meaning and what heartaches become more tolerable? Who do you need to say "I love you" to in your life today?

It's the small things that matter most

I finally had a chance to watch the movie Up last night. What an uplifting movie! (Pardon the pun). I understand now why it won so much acclaim and garnered two Oscars.

Up tells the story of an old man, Carl Fredricksen, who has always dreamt of adventure. All of their married life together the old man and his wife Elie talked about building a house on top of Paradise Falls somewhere in South America. They painstakingly saved their loose change in a Paradise Falls jar but then life happened... A broken down car that needed repairs. A forced stay at the hospital as a result of a broken leg. A tree falling onto the house during a bad storm. Every time, they broke the piggy bank holding the promise of their dream to pay for these necessities. The years moved on. One day, Elie was not able to climb the small hill to their favourite picnic spot under a tree. That was the same day that the old man wanted to surprise his wife with two plane tickets to South America. Sadly, they never went on that trip Elie had to be hospitalized and passed away. Carl stubbornly refuses to sell his house and move into a senior's home even though his little house is being dwarfed by the skyscrapers surrounding him. The nasty building developer seizes an unfortunate opportunity to get rid of this recalcitrant man. Mr. Fredricksen is forced to move to a senior's home by the authorities. He ties thousands of balloons to his house which is transformed into a aircraft. As he relaxes back into his easy chair, floating over the city, feeling quite proud of himself, there is a knock at the door... somehow an 8 year old boy scout has tagged along for the ride.
They actually do make it to Paradise Falls but they face all sorts of trials and tribulations on their way there. The quest to Paradise Falls helps them uncover personal strengths they did not know they possessed. They stood by their values and saved the day.

In the end, as they reflect on the wild ride they experienced together, Carl and the little boy come to the conclusion that it is the little things that matter most. The little boy remembers fondly times with his dad when they both got ice cream, chocolate flavour for the boy and butter pecan for the father, sit on a curb and count the blue and red cars passing by. Carl realizes that even though he and Elie never did travel to South America together, the times spent reading the paper side by side, holding hands while sitting on the couch watching TV, or picnicking under their favourite tree have been his most treasured times on this earth. He would not change a thing.

I have been very lucky. I have had some great adventures in my life so far. I have travelled to over 25 countries: snorkeled the Great Barrier Reef; rode in a tuk tuk in the middle of rush hour traffic in Bangkok; prayed in Buddhist temples in Kyoto; climbed the stairs of the Tour Eiffel and drank champagne in a gondola on a canal in Venice. Although all these experiences are treasured memories, I always looked forward to coming back home after those trips.

I wonder, if I were to look back on my life as Carl Fredricksen did in the movie Up, what memories would truly warm my heart? What memories would define who I am and who I was proud to be? Who would be the main actors in those memories? Chances are that I would come to the same conclusions as Mr. Fredricksen. It was the little things that mattered most.

When I come back home after one of my trips, I look forward to the little pleasures of life. I cherish things like pizza and a movie every Friday night with my family, watching my girls teary eyed performing in a play or playing beautifully at a musical concert or sharing a bagel and a coffee at the local Tim Horton's with my husband on a Saturday morning.

This is not to say that if I had a choice to do it all over again I would not choose to go on those trips. On the contrary, not only did I discover places of incredible beauty on my adventures but I also got to know myself better. The being away makes the coming home that much sweeter. The coming home gives you a fresh perspective about things you may take for granted in your every day life. Those little seemingly mundane things that in retrospect makes life worth living, worth remembering fondly...

What about you? Is there an adventure calling your name? What will you look forward to when you come home? How will that change how you experience the everyday pleasures that life offers you? Will it change those pleasures or will it change how you live those moments of pleasures? The Buddhist remind us to live in the present moment. Soak in those moments. Taste them. Relish them as they happen. After all, it is not the big exotic adventures that define us but the every day adventure of being a parent, a partner, a friend.