How to survive Christmas … 

"... I can’t be the only one
planning an escape 
on a boat built for one 
simple but spacious 
room enough 
to stretch out 
on long lazy days 
held in the embrace 
of a forgiving sea ..."

There’s part of me wondering if I’m swimming against the tide this week but instinct suggests otherwise.  I feel sure I won’t be the only one wondering how on earth it came to be Christmas week already.  I can hear half the country protesting that they’re not ready, even whilst some will be feeling quietly smug, their preparations all in hand.  But it is never that simple is it, and there will be a fair few, hiding on the periphery, who don’t feel invested at all, for all manner of reasons.   

Christmas is complicated!  Many may well feel frustrated that it’s a challenge to find the Christmas story in the midst of the hyper-consumerism that has completely taken over this festive holiday.  In addition to the buying of far too many gifts, there’s the food and drink that adds additional pressure as well as extra pounds.  And when did the Christmas trim-up become a competitive sport?

All that said, it can be infectious. I was in York on Sunday for a Winter Solstice concert and went into town early to soak up some of the Christmas atmosphere.  Despite the dampening weather, the lights looked magical and the crowds were jovial.  It was easy to be swept along, tempted by a mince pie and a yearning for snow.  

What is it about Christmas that makes so many of us nostalgic for a Christmas past?  Perhaps some of us are impossibly optimistic for the Christmas present?  Whatever it is, I suspect our feelings will be fuelled by love: the reality of it, the loss of it, the yearning for it.  

Whatever your plans for Christmas, I think it’s safe to say that you’ll have to be flexible.  No matter how well organised, you’ll forget something.  No matter how meticulously orchestrated, something or someone will put a spanner in the works.  Isn’t it always the way?   And if you are not organised, don’t panic, it’s unlikely to end in disaster.  Something or someone will probably turn up to fill the gap that you didn’t manage to fill yourself.  

Not everyone will be with people they love.  Not everyone will spend the day as they chose.  Some people will chose to be alone, whilst others will be lonely.  Some will relish the opportunity to “do” Christmas, whilst others will feel exhausted by the whole thing.  The reality is that most of us will feel all of these things at various stages in the proceedings.  Like a good old Christmas buffet, we’ll tuck into portions of happiness, joy, frustration, anger and jealousy.  We’re human after all.

This week’s poem is not about Christmas per se, but about that feeling many of us may experience when it all gets too much.  At this time of year, I’m sure many of you can relate.  I’ve been listening recently to a new podcast by the wonderful Katherine May (author of the brilliant book, Wintering), called The Clearing.  Each week she interviews her guest about their imagined place of retreat, and it got me thinking about how I choose to withdraw from the world.  This is not a negative act at all but one of self-preservation. I need to retreat into silence sometimes in order to reconnect with my inner voice, the one that always seems to know the way.  Only then can I go back into the world, with renewed purpose and energy.  I feel sure I’ll need to do that throughout the festive period, which is perfectly normal.  Well, it’s normal for me at any rate and, like the poem says, I’m sure I’m not alone in that.

My hope for you this Christmas week is that you enjoy it, however you spend it, and that you remember to look after your own needs as well as everyone else’s.  If you do, I can guarantee a much happier Christmas!