Nothing has to be complicated. In fact, I prefer when it’s not. I no longer decorate or put up a traditional Christmas tree either.
Glitter and glitz were fun for a time—mostly back when there were children around. These days, I lean into quiet contemplation around this time of year.
We’re looking forward to an evening at the symphony and another at the theatre in the coming weeks. Other than that, I’m keeping the squares on my calendar mostly empty.
Batteries Included One of five candles on my desk by the window is a flickering flame. Battery powered. Programmed to burn four hours. By then, it will be mostly light outside, and hope will go out. I sit in my wing chair by the artificial light of a faux fireplace, a salt lamp, and the first candle of Advent, pondering hope, its similarity to oxygen, and how both are required for life. Batteries and electricity serve their purpose. They do in a pinch, or with intention. Next week, peace will join hope. Two battery-powered twins marking the days, until I put triple As in joy and love and, finally, the December 25th candle, to complete the Christmas quintet. All these, reasonable facsimiles, holding space while we wait.