Well, here we are — the last Sunday before Christmas! Despite the chaos and craziness of this year, I've found that time has just flown, especially these past four months. I'm looking forward to some much-needed downtime, snuggling on the couch in my Pimp Daddy housecoat and snacking on some popcorn. Maybe I'll watch a movie or two. Maybe I'll pull out the old guitar and entertain my neighbours through the living room window, or maybe I'll just sit, chill, and do nothing. Whatever it is, I'm looking forward to embracing the time to recharge and refuel.
I love the holiday season — and I say holiday season because there are so many different holidays celebrated in the span of three weeks or so by so many different people. Christmas always seems to get top billing, but the whole season is filled with love, togetherness, and magic. This season will certainly be different in the physical sense of not being able to gather together with our loved ones, but that doesn't mean we have to give up on the spirit of the season. For me, the spirit of the season is what it's all about.
When I was nineteen, my baby niece gave me the book The Polar Express for Christmas. The caption, written by her mom, said, "To Aunt Tricia — Who will always hear the sleighbells." And I think in that one sentence she nailed who I am and how I try to live my life.
If you don't know the book or the movie, The Polar Express is a story about a little boy who begins to doubt whether or not Santa is real. On Christmas Eve, a train arrives outside his bedroom window and he gets on, is taken to the North Pole, and is chosen to receive the first gift of Christmas. He asks Santa for a single bell from his sleigh. Santa obliges, and the little boy puts it in his pocket. Unfortunately, there is a hole in his housecoat pocket, and he loses the bell.
The next morning, Christmas morning, he awakes back home in his house, and there is a small box with his name on it amongst all the other presents under the Christmas tree. When he opens it, it contains his lost silver bell. When he shakes it, both he and his little sister light up at the sound of its beauty, but his parents are baffled that someone would send him a bell that didn't work. The secret wasn't that the bell didn't work — it was just that the parents couldn't hear it. Only those who believe in the spirit of Christmas can hear the bell.
So the moral of the story is, if you believe in the spirit of Christmas, then you'll always be able to hear the bell — no matter how old you are. And while this is a Christmas-specific story, I think it applies to the holidays in general and just believing in the spirit of what they mean to each of us. To me, the spirit of Christmas means so many things — love, kindness, gratitude, togetherness, giving. But I think the biggest thing is having that childlike wonder to suspend all adult rational thought and just believe in something magical, if only for a moment.
Can a snowman come to life? You're probably thinking, no way. But how do you know for sure? Are you watching it every second of every day? No, so you can't say for certain that it doesn't, can you? Logically, of course a snowman can't come to life, but if you believe? Maybe, just maybe, it can. That five-year-old buried deep inside you sure does believe a snowman can come to life.
Because the minute we stop believing in Santa and Frosty and flying reindeer and magic bells is the minute we stop believing that anything is possible. We've set our feet firmly on the ground and thrown in the towel. And that's not something I'm willing to give up. I'm not willing to dash the hopes and dreams of that five-year-old inside of me — the one who believes in the goodness of the world and the purity of wonder.
That five-year-old has gotten me through some tough situations as an adult, just being able to draw on her curiosity and her unabashed reliance on imagination. She always makes me crack a smile, and I'm so lucky and blessed to have her living and dreaming inside of me.
Thirdly, she keeps me young. I've been told many times that I'm an "old soul," and I've thought about it — I don't think it's me that's the old soul, but the child inside of me who better deserves that moniker. She is the one with the vision. She is the one who keeps me spiritually connected to who I am and to the world around me. She's the one who pushes me to believe in the goodness of people and in the sanctity of honest, real connections.
She's the reason I believe in Santa — not as an entity anymore, but as a magical figure of love and giving. And she's the reason I get so excited for the holidays and spending time with friends and family. Because of her, I am free to be a crazy fool, to make snow angels, and just have uninhibited fun and joy in my life.
Or maybe, they've just tuned the sleighbells out. If you're like them and can't hear the sleighbells anymore, maybe the challenge this holiday season is to clear out all that adult clutter from your brain. It doesn't have to be forever. But just for a moment, clear out that clutter and listen hard. Think back and go deep. Find that moment or moments when that kid in you reigned supreme. Close your eyes. Think. Remember. When that little grin starts to creep across your face, you'll know you've found her.
It's amazing what can happen when you allow yourself to believe — not only in yourself, but also in the impossible. Give into the magic of the season and let its power and gratitude sustain you throughout the whole next year. It opens your heart and mind to so much more, and when your well is full, it's so much easier to give to others. And that, my friends, is what the spirit of the holidays is all about!
Wait — what's that sound you're hearing? It's the sleighbells, silly. They only ring for those who believe. You did it. Welcome to the club — so glad you've finally arrived. I've been waiting.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all. May you always hear the sleighbells.