I'll bet, like me, you thought this blog had been consigned to the archives. I certainly didn't expect to feel the urge to write on it again. But here goes...
I was looking for a post to share with a dog-loving friend, and decided to read a few more myself. I'm enjoying the trips down memory lane. I found this post about my turangawaewae particularly interesting in these present moments/times/days.
Christmas is coming. With no children around me, and consumerism not being my thing, I haven't really thought about it too much. Random gifts have been distributed by mail order, and as I prefer not to have things delivered to me - far too much effort trying to retrieve them from the post office - I am not expecting any. I am joining friends to eat too much food, but our celebrations will be moderate - at least, I am hoping so!
I sometimes wonder why, in these secular times, we continue with these traditions that cause so much stress within families. The original Christmas was simple, a birth in a manger, with cattle around. It bears little resemblance to our commercial chaos today. Have I become the Grinch? If I have, I don't mind too much. After all, the Grinch did learn that Christmas was more than presents and noise. I don't think it is Christmas that upsets me, but all the stress that can go with it. The stress not so much for me, but for those who believe that they must stretch themselves beyond their means to create a "Christmas" for others.
On Wednesday I bought a Christmas gift. Of sorts. At the weekly market a stall holder tried to persuade me to buy some of the extra Christmas fare she had on her stall. Her usual domestic wares were not selling; these are tough times. The market was empty, noone was buying. I didn't need the things that were for sale. My meander through the market was purely to collect a parcel of a product I was trialling with my paintings (delivered to a shop, it's better that way), and for company on an otherwise quiet and bleak day. I turned her down. I moved away about four paces, then returned. I had changed my mind. I bought two things. Because Christmas is really about giving, after all.
I have been back in New Zealand, living behind closed borders for two years while recovering from Long Covid, re-establishing myself in the community I left, wondering about where I really belong. My physical health says Italy is better for me. My mountainside does me the world of good. But at Christmas time thoughts of grandchildren pull me in different directions. I live in two completely different worlds, and that is something that I simply need to accept. It's not that I "want my cake and eat it too" but the reality is that there is something in each place that fills some need within me.
Here in Italy I am free to paint, I am not being squashed into a box of expectations because, with my faltering Italian language and independent ways, I will never truly fit in. In New Zealand I am closer to family, and things are so much easier, but I also feel an unspoken pressure to conform to the expectations of others, whether those expectations are good for me or not. I have never seen myself as being a non-conformist, and a lifetime as a teacher would suggest that I am pretty good at conforming. So perhaps I was a well-trained conforming mis-fit all along. I can wear that. And so I will continue to live with the best and the worst of both worlds, for as long as I am able. And this year, that means Christmas on my own, which is quite OK too.
Christmas. What will it look like, this year? For me, this strange 2022, Christmas is a rather funny looking reindeer who invited himself home with me. I think I'll keep him. He's quiet company while I paint, and I haven't started talking to him - yet!
May your December be stress free, healthy and filled with family and friends - or peaceful and serene, with enough to eat, and good music to keep you company.
