Christmas cheer

[mrissa]

Christmas Eve is my favorite of these holidays. Christmas Day is okay, but really we are Christmas Eve people. New Year's is fine, too, but I suspect I won't be seeing the New Year in this year; I may be wrong. And Twelfth Night is nice, too, quiet, with everything else over.

1. I woke up and had cranberry bread for breakfast. My mom makes it at Christmas because she loves me, and we have it for breakfast, and it is good. Well, I have it for breakfast. Mom is having gingerbread.

2. I checked my e-mail to find an e-mail from an old friend I haven't talked to in years. Tina and I didn't ever have a fight or anything -- we just grew apart, got different interests in junior high and high school. But she was a fierce and loyal friend when I was in grade school, and I'm glad to hear from her again.

3. markgritter and the folks and I will be lunching at Spirit World. It's an Omaha liquor store, but it has a deli attached, so you needn't worry about us drinking our lunch. If they have rosemary bread, I will have hunter chicken salad; if not, I will have Greek chicken salad on marble bread. It will be good.

4. Dad and I will go last-minute shopping -- nothing urgent, we're already effectively done, but we keep an eye out for little additions -- and get fruit and yogurt. We've been doing this for as long as I can remember.

5. Grandma will serve smorgasbord for supper. The lefse is ready, the herring is bought, and the clam chowder won't get started until later this afternoon.

6. There will be presents. Some of them are shaped like books, and some are not, and that's a good combination, I think.

7. Tomorrow there will be stockings and cinnamon rolls, and it turns out my aunt and uncle and cousin and cousin-in-law will be able to join the rest of us for Christmas dinner before they head up to my other cousin's house.

What's your winter holiday of choice, and what makes it cool for you?

Comments

[callunav.livejournal.com]

Here's a picture of a way I would love to celebrate the winter solstice: I wake up around sunrise the morning before, and enjoy the quality of light. I spend the day preparing food and getting things ready, and going outside often to be aware of the day and how fast it's passing. One of the things I'm getting ready is a place not too far from the indoor place where I and my people expect to spend the night with food and stories and maybe some singing. In this space, I set up some kind of windbreak - maybe a small tent with the wall which is a door fastened open - lots of cushions and blankets, and in front of it a brazier containing - during the day - a big fire, carefully tended, so that by evening, I can bank it down to a big, solid, enduring bed of coals, which can be fed and maintained to keep providing heat but little light. Also, thermoses full of hot tea. Sometime around noon, I take a bit of a nap. Before sunset, I take my candle lantern and lighter, and walk to somewhere beautiful facing west. I watch the sun set - which can take up to an hour, from the moment when it seems to be starting to the moment when I'm sure it's gone - light my candle as the sun goes past the horizon, walk home, and use the flame from my lantern to light the tall white pillar candle on my altar, where it stands surrounded by yew and birch - yew for death and rebirth, birch for new beginings.

Then I spend the night partly inside with the stories and food and laughter and holly - bright and protective - and partly outside, with the darkness and yew - dark and open, watching the night progress. If and when other people come outside to sit in the dark with me, we are quiet, our attention turned outward. Maybe someday we will be the kind of group so that, from the moment of sunset to the moment of sunrise, there will always be /someone/ outside in the dark, aware. We spend time considering what the light means, and what the dark means, and what the turning of the balance means.

Shortly before sunrise, I move the flame from the pillar candle back to the candle lantern, and walk to somewhere beautiful facing east. (If I'm still around here, that could be the beach: I've done that. It was incredible.) I'll stand still and wait as the sky gets lighter and the birds wake up. I don't get too cold, I know because I've done it. I spot the place on the horizon where the sun is going to appear, and I wait for it, at the same time that I'm saying goodnight to the night. The sun makes itself known. I blow out my candle. I hug whomever I'm with. I go home, make sure that all coals are dead, everything that needs to be inside is inside and everything that needs to be put away lest the cats get into it has been put away, and then I go to sleep - for once in the company of other people.

Some elements of this already exist. Others are coming. Others may never be quite like I've described, but the feel is right. And I don't know if I can explain what make this cool for me if it's not clear.

The winter solstice is, for me, the time when I realize the new year.

I didn't mention presents. This year, I got one present on the solstice and didn't give any - and I *loved* it. Mind you, I love giving and getting presents. But not, it turns out, in a huge wadge on the solstice. We're talking about different ways of doing holiday giving that will change the structure entirely, and I'm excited about it. I think in some ways, I feel about the entire celebration the way a lot of Christmas-celebrating people feel about Christmas Eve - the day is all about the presents and bustle and excitement, but the eve is the part that gets inside you with one white candle and a single, exquisite voice, singing something beautiful with words you can't quite make out and don't need to.