I officially turned my back on Christmas in 1992, when I returned from living abroad in St. Petersburg, Russia. I experienced my share of culture shock living in the former Soviet city, but had no way of preparing for how it would affect me upon returning to the United States. At the time, home was San Francisco, and the grand holiday season was just ramping up. I had spent months without seeing any major outdoor advertisement, such as billboards, signage, or bus ads. Nor did I see brand name clothes, products, or equipment. Nor did I see bright lights of shops, department stores, or restaurants. Nor could we find a variety of quality food items. What hit me hardest upon my return was the cultural and societal imprint of Capitalism on my daily life, my neighborhood, my world around me. In some ways, it was as if my world went from black and white to color overnight. And I wanted nothing to do with it.
The last thing I wanted to think about was shopping, spending money, or giving in to the marketing madness that I couldn’t ignore or escape. At the same time, I didn’t want to become a miserly curmudgeon, so I meditated on ways to be celebratory in my own way.
Coming from a non-religious family, any traditions we had were more about getting together and feasting, and less about adhering to any holy calendar. What does make sense to me is the tradition of celebrating light, life, and renewal at this time of year. I love summers for the long light-filled days, but if I had to pick a favorite day of the year, it might well be the first day of winter solstice. Just knowing that we are gaining a little bit of light each day brings me joy.
The “holiday” I personally like to claim this time of year is the eleven or so days that differentiate the lunar year from the solar year. I like to think about what the past year has brought as well as what I hope the new year might bring. I like to pull back from the business that fills my daily life and enjoy the quiet and peace of solitude. I like this time to be stress free, not stressful.
So, when I can, I’ll spend the day in nature, by myself, with family or with friends. I think about giving time, not gifts, to people I love but may not have many opportunities to see. I’ll treat myself to things I’ve deprived myself of for most of the year—guilty pleasures of reading, writing, relaxing.
Among my favorite solstice celebrations was the year my brother and I decided to hike two mountains in two days. We tackled Mount Diablo on December 24 and Mount Tam on December 25. Mount Diablo was full of treats: a white barn owl, a coyote, a fox, several deer, a cage for catching mountain lions, frog remains, hawks, crows, vultures, and at the top, a reservoir of goldfish. Fish on a mountain? Who knew!
We’ve returned to Diablo since, and I’m sad to report that the goldfish are no longer there. I’ll surely concoct countless stories about how they arrived and the fate that befell them. These are the presents I treasure: the ones made of memories, stories, light, and fish on mountaintops.
Photo courtesy of the author