How To Holiday?

A friend of mine made a very simple and profoundly true statement that has been ringing in my mind since hearing it: Holidays amplify all feelings. Whether joy, sadness, stress, excitement, peacefulness, annoyance. . . the list could go on and on. . . this time of year is unlike any other in its ability to take human emotion and ratchet it up to unprecedented levels for many. Why? Why is there so much pressure, so many expectations, so much hoopla over what at its core is a season that is meant to be about sharing time and making memories with the ones you love?

It would be easy to blame Hallmark, blame consumerism, blame any other outside target. But the truth of the matter is we are the ones who put pressure on ourselves and end up creating stress. I think for most people, we do it from a place of love, but sometimes it manifests as sheer madness even with the best of intentions. We have notions about how our holiday celebrations should look and feel. We can become inflexible trying to make things just so and end up alienating the very people that we simply want to draw close to us. These are the times when many people acutely feel the absence of loved ones lost or come face to face with the significance of other major life changes. Holidays can be a mine field that one must traverse with great care, lest you stumble inadvertently on an emotional trigger that could bring up untapped feelings in you or someone you love.

In my case, though I definitely did not grow up with it, I seem to have this overtly strong desire to create traditions around the holidays. Admittedly, I can get a little crazy on this subject. Coming from a small, Jewish family, there was no tree decorating, no massive holiday gatherings, nothing present year after year with the exception of cooking a seriously kick-ass Thanksgiving dinner. My father loved food, loved to cook, and I loved to be in the kitchen with him preparing for that meal in particular because there was tradition involved. Making "our" cranberry sauce with orange juice and a splash of Grand Marnier. Trying out some scrumptious stuffing recipe that he concocted since that was the favorite side dish of both he and I. Preparing a meal, whether for our little family, or on some occasions, a larger crowd of close family friends, was an act of love and a definite tradition. I can't recall him ever articulating those words, but looking back now and reliving those times, I feel it. And I know without a doubt that this is the driving reason why I always feel so strongly compelled to celebrate Thanksgiving with an absurd amount of food in the company of the people I love. It is the one tradition that I can continue, though, come to think of it, every single year of my adult life that I've honored it, this tradition has morphed and changed.

I remember hosting my first Thanksgiving my last year of college because I couldn't go home for the break. My table was full of a random assortment of friends that were also around, as well as my father and brother. Then there were a couple of Thanksgivings spent in Chile, adopting an American tradition to my Latin home, family and friends. Back stateside, I spent a few years once again joining forces with my dad in the kitchen, cooking for our family, expanded by my ex-husband and a variety of friends. Last year, with my father gone, no more husband and my mother in Vermont with her best friends, I flew to California to be with my brother and sister-in-law for Thanksgiving. This year, with my mother and brother each in there respective Thanksgiving spots once again, I cooked at home in the company of my best friend, my boyfriend and their little ones, then joined my adopted family for a huge dinner. Talk about variety being the spice of life!

Taken from one perspective, this may not look like much of a tradition at all, seeing as how my Thanksgivings have constantly evolved year after year. But looking carefully, looking with my heart, I see that the key elements of a tradition have always been there: food, friends, family, love. That is all I need, and it is more than enough to fill my heart. Instead of focusing on what's "missing" from my holiday traditions, if I look at the essence I see time after time that it's all there. Keeping that in mind, being grateful for what is instead of what isn't, that is the best thing I can think of to combat holiday stress and instead amplify the positive emotions of gratitude, joy and celebration. I'm still going to miss my dad. In all likelihood I'm still going to get mildly compulsive about wanting to create more traditions. I'll probably still feel moments of stress and provoke the same in those around me (sorry, babe. . . I'm trying!). But I have the ability to step back, take a breath and refocus on what really matters, which will invariably leave me feeling abundant and blessed. That is how to holiday.

Pulling at the heartstrings

Though most of my musings thus far have centered around my marriage and divorce in some capacity, that experience was not the only one to pull on my heart in the last few years. While that relationship was coming undone so was my father's health, and truly, his life, in just about every capacity. But coming undone doesn't mean falling apart, it doesn't have to mean destruction. Sometimes that is the case, and sometimes it is a catalyst for needed growth and change. Sometimes it is just a question of how you look at the situation. A year ago tomorrow my father passed away.

In the end it was cancer that took him, which was almost ironic given the string of maladies that had plagued him before "cancer" even became part of our daily dialog. A long-time sufferer of diabetes and hepatitis, my father was not the picture of perfect health by any means, but for the most part, he managed to live his life and work hard. When he was told that his liver disease, a byproduct of the hepatitis, had advanced markedly and would require a transplant, it sent him into a downward spiral mentally and emotionally that ultimately marked the beginning of the end. From start to finish, that final chapter took some two-and-a-half years, included countless hospitalizations, an attempt on his own life, two amputations and a rebirth of his soul. It was grueling, it was inspiring, it tore our family apart and it brought us back together. And just when that happened, just when my father finally seemed to find peace and become a much softer, gentler, more loving being, he was diagnosed with end-stage cancer and passed away not quite three months later.

No small coincidence, since there are no coincidences in life, or so some would say, that cancer has reentered my daily dialog again, just in time for the one year anniversary of my father's passing. This time it is early-stage, small and controllable, sitting in the chest of a treasured friend. Yesterday she had a lumpectomy and hopefully today she will go home to recuperate and resume her active life. Will her cancer be her wake-up call? Will it bring about change in the areas that need it most and prompt her to reevaluate certain decisions and situations in her life? Only time will tell. Personally, I have every faith that she will come out of this stronger, healthier and happier, that coming undone will spark beautiful forward movement in time, but we each have our own path to walk down so ultimately she will decide.

And that is what it comes down to for me: making a decision. I could choose to be sad and stay in a broken state over the loss of my father, the loss of my marriage or any other perceived loss in my life. Or I could choose to embrace the gifts that come from these situations. I reflect back on what transpired with my father and it brings a smile to my face and a feeling of warmth and fullness to my heart because I know that in the end, he really began to work out some of his negative karma and was in an amazing place. No matter that his health, finances and mobility were severely impaired. He had love in his heart, kindness on his lips and his family by his side. I held his hand, kissed him goodbye and prayed as he took his last breath in this particular life. I saw him at peace, truly. So I choose to hold on to that and it makes me happy.

My first grade teacher introduced me to the wise, beloved euphemism, "when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade". And that is what it's all about. Take what you are given and make the very best out of it. Learn all you can. Cultivate gratitude, patience, compassion or whatever other virtues are to be had. Find the vantage point that allows you to see the beauty, the good, the value of any given circumstance and hold that in your heart. It makes for a much happier way of being than the alternative.

Family Matters

Mother. Father. Children. Throw in a couple sets of grandparents. Maybe a few aunts and uncles. Sprinkle in some cousins. Isn't that a family? That definition doesn't work for many and certainly never worked for me. Even as a child, I was pushing the boundaries of a traditional family. I instinctively knew I couldn't possibly get everything I needed and wanted from my immediate family unit. I considered my mother's best friends my aunts despite having a few biological ones as well. I felt so wholly comfortable and part of families that I had no blood connection to that I spent as much time with them and trusted them as my own relatives. It isn't to say that I didn't or don't have close relationships with my family, but we are a small group and it seems that it is in my nature to want to be part of a bigger family tree. I can't help what I was born into but I can plant my own seeds. And so I did.

I have been "adopted" into quite a number of families, sharing in the good times and bad, the birthdays, the holidays, the milestones. I love the members of these special, beautiful clans with all my heart, just as they have opened their hearts and homes to me. We've already touched on the fact that I'm nuts for kids, but there are some kids in particular, children of my dearest friends, who I love as if they were my own, and I would absolutely do anything within my power to support, protect and nurture them. While I was married I was part of a huge Latin family who's tree had so many branches I lost count, and I absolutely relished in it. All the "tias and tios", the "primos" everywhere we went. It's no wonder I'm still so drawn to that culture and their men! And there is this immense sisterhood that I am blessed to be a part of. . .a group of sensational, inspiring, beautiful women from such a diverse array of backgrounds that have come together to form a family unto ourselves. My soul sisters, and for a girl who grew up with a brother as her sole sibling, it is really an immense treat to experience!

Last night one of my sisters raised a glass of very special wine that she selected for our family in honor of the sentiment I just shared. With tears of joy and gratitude in her eyes, she spoke of the family she was born into, spread out geographically and emotionally, and how it is this family that we have all consciously chosen to create and nurture that makes her feel at home. My heart swelled because I truly understood how she felt. Another one of my sisters shared that it was only in becoming a part of our family that she truly found herself since for all her years prior she had been so strongly defined by her role in relation to the family she was born into. I get that too.

Family is what you make it, what you want it to be. We are not all born into the Leave It to Beaver family that was once the touchstone of our society. Many of us have very strained relationships or deep-seeded issues tied to the parents, siblings and relatives we grew up with, while others have truly remarkable connections to these people in their lives. One is not better than the other. It is our karma to be born into these different situations. It simply is what it is and then it becomes your choice as an individual to decide what you do with that experience. And let us not forget to look beyond our immediate line of sight and take time to honor the human family bound together by the universal energy that exists within us all. This is at the core of yogic teachings, and while it may not be the easiest lesson to grasp for some, I personally believe it to be true and strive to act accordingly.

One family. One love.