Miracles are like pimples, because once you start looking for them you find more than you ever dreamed you’d see.
Lemony Snicket, The Lump of Coal
25 November 2022
Yesterday was Thanksgiving Day in the United States, a peculiar American holiday that starts what we call the “Holiday Season.” It’s based on a cozy myth of European invaders engaging in a lovefest with a band of Native Americans in what is now Massachusetts. Well, sort of. The Wampanoag were pretty kind and generous to the newcomers at first, but within a generation, about 90% of them had died from diseases the Pilgrims had gifted to them, which, I assume, the Wampanoag found rather alarming. In addition, more and more Europeans kept showing up and eventually started using the Wampanoag and other natives for target practice, which definitely soured the atmosphere. But please forgive my historical digression…
Other peoples see us Americans as being prone to excess, and our Holiday Season often goes beyond excessive to true orgy upon orgy (orgy in the sense of excessive indulgence, not necessarily sexual). It begins with families sitting down to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, with enormous (up to 31 m/102 ft tall or 54 m/178 ft long) blowup cartoon characters floating down Broadway in New York while TV “personalities” provide effusive commentary. Then the food. Many families gather to pretend they like each other so as to gorge on platefuls of roast turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, pumpkin pies and a long list of other coronarily destructive foods. Then the football. Some families retire after the meal to burp and belch at their 90-inch (2.3 m) television screens as they scream through the ether at American football players whose goal is to maim players on the opposing team while doggedly working to bash their own heads with enough force to inflict permanent neurological damage that will turn them to vegetables by the age of 70.
That, of course is only the beginning. We’re talking Holiday Season. Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, used to be the start of the Christmas shopping season (although now, I think, it starts sometime in August). It’s called Black Friday because it’s the day on which merchants traditionally move to profitability after having spent most of the year “in the red.” So stores compete with one another to offer the best deals on EVERYTHING, advertising shamelessly and leaving their doors open for 24 hours. But now, since so much of the world makes purchases online, who cares if the doors are open 24 hours a day? We’re not going to the mall anyway. Enter Cyber Monday, when the electronics that weren’t sold out on Friday are offered for even more obscene prices. (Are you understanding the orgy reference?)
Following Black Friday and Cyber Monday, we have nearly a month of sales, sales, sales, discounts, discounts, discounts, discounts. For those of us old people who actually go to stores, we’re inundated with often insipid politically correct “holiday songs” that have been purged of any discernible reference to the religious holiday in which the season has its roots, although I do like the idea of not assuming we’re all Christian (which I am not, although I have respect for many of Christianity’s peace-based, non-exclusionary beliefs). But wouldn’t it be cool to hear a Hanukkah song or a Diwali chant occasionally?
Christmas decorations. Now I’ve been to France, Spain and the Netherlands during the Christmas season. Paris has lovely, sedate, rather sophisticated holiday decorations, and the Dutch do it up with characteristic humor for Sinterklaasdag in early December. The Spaniards, I think, are too busy partying to bother much with decorations. In the US, OMG! Not everyone pulls out the stops, but some folks spend months setting up their winter wonderlands, and I’m certain that lights in their half of the city dim momentarily when they flip the switch.
Christmas is yet another occasion when many families come together to share the joy of the holiday spirit while they work so hard to pretend they like each other. Until Uncle Joe has had too much to drink and all hell breaks loose. (OK, not ALL families are like this. In fact, mine isn’t at all, but, sadly, many families do go through this annual drama, and I send them my healing thoughts.)
It’s finally near the end of the season, and we arrive at New Year’s Eve. I remember one year spending the holiday with Joan at a nice hotel on the California Coast where they offered a pricey sort of OK dinner and a New Year Extravaganza where we were expected to dance rhapsodically and celebrate with great gusto in the company of total strangers, bubbling over our two allotted glasses of California sparkling wine (they couldn’t call it champagne because it wasn’t from France). It was weird. We left early.
New Year’s morning and the obligatory Rose Parade. This is truly an orgy of horticultural excess. At least 75,000 roses. And that’s just roses. Millions of carnations, orchids, chrysanthemums, anthuriums, peonies, Venus flytraps (crap, I can’t even think of any more flowers to name). And those who live in Southern California (I used to live in San Diego.) revel in the opportunity to call relatives in places like Buffalo and Minneapolis to tell them that they really miss them and that, by the way, it’s about 70˚F (21˚C) outside. To finish the season, it’s more American football. This time, it’s university students attempting to maim each other and to get a head start on causing themselves serious brain damage.
There’s one more holiday that I haven’t yet mentioned…Kwanzaa (December 26-January 1). And frankly, unlike the rest of this diatribe, I haven’t anything snarky to say about it, because I think it’s a pretty cool holiday. Invented in 1966 after the Watts riots in Los Angeles, it celebrates the African American experience and potential. It’s based on seven principles: Unity, Self-determination, Collective work and responsibility, Cooperative economics, Purpose, Creativity and Faith. I really like the idea, and I hope that it becomes more widely known and celebrated.
With that last bit, I’ve intentionally shifted from snark to respect…I was just having fun being a smartass. I have to say that not everyone has the means to engage in this annual excess, although most try their best. And, truth be told, it’s fun to look at the decorations, while I’ve brought some GREAT stuff cheap on Black Friday. And it’s also true that many folks’ hearts are softened during this season. But, damn, it sure provides a lot of material for a few laughs.
For me, in fact, I really got into Thanksgiving this year, feeling grateful to tears for all the blessings I have in my life. I did my Lovingkindness Meditation in the morning, focusing on many of my friends and family, and it moved me deeply to establish that connection with many of you. We had the family over for dinner and we really enjoyed each other’s company, indigestion notwithstanding. Yesterday again, I became aware of the many miracles in my life.
I met with one of my doctors the other day. I love this guy. We joke around together and he also pulls no punches in regard to my situation. He said that my response to the cancer treatment has been remarkable, even miraculous. And he also said that what normally happens is that eventually the cancer re-emerges, which doesn’t surprise me. But, skeptic that I am, I’ve been wondering how much of this miracle can be attributed to the shots and pills I’m getting and how much is tied to the healing energy many of you have sent me. So I’m asking you please to continue with the healing thoughts, as I will continue to focus my love and healing energy on many of you. In regard to the cancer, I’m not sure I’m out of the woods…I may just be passing through a clearing, with yet more woods up ahead. In any event, I hope I have the wisdom to take whatever comes with grace and love.
And please don’t ever forget to include yourself in your thoughts and prayers of health and joy:
May your body and spirit be filled with health, love, peace and joy. And may you be an open channel of love, peace, joy and kindness.
There is one more miracle I’d like to mention. A little under two weeks ago, Knight Smart passed away. He was the husband of my niece Jean. He’d gone through a long process with throat cancer which required the removal of his larynx and led to a long and very difficult time, the details of which are unnecessary to share. I say this was miraculous because throughout this process, he remained cheerful and strong for his family. As Lisa, Jean’s sister and my other niece said as we all sat together after his passing, “He was always so goddamned happy.” Knight was a good man. A very good man. Each of us faces the end of our life, and Knight offered an example of how to do this with much grace and love. Godspeed, dear man.
Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy in abundance.
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