If something takes time, we think twice before committing to do it in the week before Christmas. Just below the everyday tasks from December 17 onward, a seasonal pot pourri bubbles up within all of us – part planning, part spending, part music, part mail, part home, part family, part memory, part stubborn reality.
We may be careful in what we start to read, careful in what we venture to write, careful in what we agree to attend and who we agree to host.
Something like a metaphysical landscape rises up within us, the awareness that what does not make us proud in how we order our priorities during these end-of-year days may reveal values awry. We will get shown up, we fear. Who have we become if this is what we can leave undone? Who have we become if this is all we can afford?
Are there things we are too old to still be doing? Are there things we can never be too old to say?
Can we pass the vacuum cleaner one more time for a holiday guest?
Is there a friend who agrees that chocolate brown ornaments look great in a bowl?