On Holiday Gifts

Hello My Dears,

Happy Holiday Season! Have you been shopping? Are you feeling a bit conflicted? When you’re deciding between two models of mittens on a rack, say, do you find yourself considering your legacy to time?

I’m terrified about the environmental costs of consumption, truly beside-myself-freaked-out, desperately hoping that this whole business of capitalism and all of its horrific, noxious products get sucked into the belly of the earth where they will instantly and violently be incinerated. I think this is related to the state of our country—the fear and division. I’m absolutely confused and despondent; I am desperate to find some sort of understanding but it is so elusive, the best answer seems to be a grand conflagration that burns and burns and burns.

Not being sure how to start that fire and then, finding myself paralyzed over the decisions of what and who I would throw in, I go to T.J. Maxx. I breathe toys, sweatshirts, kitchenware, and colorful paper products. I can’t stop buying things, things with absurd amounts of plastic packaging, things that might not be played with much or at all, things that are made cheaply in far off places by underpaid, very young and very old workers and then transported from all the way around the globe using massive amounts of nonrenewable resources to stores with questionable investment strategies. My behavior is anxious, economically inexcusable, environmentally dangerous.

I want to give wonderful gifts, to transform the ugliness into joy. I want to see my happy babies and my beloved husband and my grateful parents and my surprised neighbors feel joy—a lot of joy, so much joy that they can barely stand it. I want to cause this joy. When I buy over-priced Pokémon cards, I know that they will be scattered around the whole house, begging for me to construct time-consuming and elaborate organizational schemes which will fail to interest my little boys; but, when they open those packages and see the little anime faces, they will scream and laugh. When I hold a clean, new stuffed animal in my hands and envision my sixteen year-old being taken back to a scene from her earlier childhood where she feels the warmth and comfort, like she used to, when I held her and she held a little polyester polar bear in some timeless moment, it doesn’t matter that the gift will then sit in the corner of her room, untouched. When I buy a cool flashlight for my neighbor who emanates opposite political perspective, I can almost feel the earth cool.

I want to give gifts but not only just give them, I want my life to be a little gift that I hand over to time. I think most people want to contribute to time, to leave a meaningful legacy. Many have religions which offer direction toward particular types of goodness and the prize of a decent afterlife upon achieving that goodness. And then there are the people who see life as largely devoid of a bigger meaning, though many of them struggle to find it anyway. Most of us, I think, are somewhere in between, clinging to religion when it makes sense, occasionally worrying that none of it matters, all the while hoping we can make some sense out of this trip through time and offer our lives up with that significance. In the best of circumstances, shaping this gift, this significance, is a difficult project. The past digs deep through strata of rock into an unimaginable before. The future hangs in front, taunting us with all we will never know. And we have to construct a memorable legacy that will pick up the mess we made while present and hold onto our memory when we are gone.

This is a good place to begin my blog, I think. I want to give you words that will make me feel present and that will make you feel present—little presents that will hand us both a bit of significance in this scary unknown, that will push us together so we must connect, even though we might rather hide away down our long driveways, in our favorite chair, behind the door, away from political importance, certain devastation, judgment. It’s scary to give these gifts of thoughts in any circumstance because we never know how they will hit. I’m terrified of being self-indulgent and dumb. I hate conflict but I know that my words must keep working at this world, changing it, which will create conflict. I want to be a good person which involves being quiet and listening—these are so respected, but maybe right now, it’s equally important to yell. Please send me your comments, your thoughts, your worries, your joy. They would be such lovely gifts. I want to feel it all before the sun burns out.