When my hands first connected with my partner’s face, back when we were just kids really, my world, previously encrusted with cynicism and boredom, suddenly jolted to life. Paddles were placed on my chest and my heart kicked back into rhythm… we morphed into something new.
When our first child came into our world, she brought with her a unique spellbinding energy. It filled every corner of our home, and she dusted it on every person who came to visit.
She changed us. The simple steps of baking a loaf of bread became pleasurable because I worked along side her, showing her the beauty of the fluffy flour, the smells coming from the yeasty warm dough rising under a tattered tea towel.
There is an elusive magic surrounding something new. It ropes us in, making it easy for us to spend the rest of our lives seeking out that original high.
I suspect this is part of the reason it can be easy to gloss over the magic at Christmas and skip straight to the ‘to do’ list.
For me, it’s typically a carefully constructed list, based on years gone by.I literally keep a list in our trunk of decorations with what worked and what didn’t so that next year can be easier and better.
Yet, it doesn’t matter how closely I follow the recipe, if I don’t mix in enough intention. If I don’t exist in the actual making of seasonal joy, if I’m merely living in my mind, flitting from one project to the next, I will, most certainly, cry on Christmas Day, believing I could have done more, even if I’ve hand made the hors d’oevres, stitched the children’s gifts myself, woven the wreaths, made the tree skirt, and rolled out the red carpet for the big guy in the red suit.
If I’m not present in heart while completing these things, there is no magic.
Less is only more if I allow myself to enjoy the process and stop seeking that original Christmas euphoria.
Im reminded, as I sift through memories, that magic is entirely self-made. The time I made Maggie her beloved Willow doll, sewing frantically at 2am, the time I ate cake and my water broke on Christmas night, the time Santa brought Ethan the exact gift he had been hoping for…I can’t replicate this stuff. The magic is both now and simply, in the memory.
Today’s magic lies somewhere on the land between tradition and new.
Hoping you’re remembering to seek out the magic in the season bustle…