Cage Free Family

Halloween is on it's way and ours is a family that begins to think of this as September comes to a close.

Since I was a child I have said that I could not pick between Christmas and Halloween as my favorite holiday of the year, though I would never have cited the candy or the presents as one of the many things I love about the two holidays.

For Halloween the thing which I love is the fun of the costume. When I was young my mother always made our costumes, custom to seasonal whims. The first costume which I remember was that of a queen, complete with foil wrapped crown and scepter and faux fur trimmed robe, all over my winter coat.

This is always the challenge of Halloween in a state like Wisconsin... the weather is cold enough to require a coat. So, do you create a costume to go over a winter coat, or do you hide your costume under the coat? ;-)

Halloween in a state like Texas gives its own challenges... namely, nothing too hot as October is often still quite warm. None of this takes out the joy of costumes for me.

Returning to Christmas (only a slightly less random thought) we were walking through the hardware store this afternoon in search of the final nails and trim pieces to put our RV back together when we wandered past the Christmas displays.
I asked to walk through the trees, and knowing the sheer bliss I feel surrounded by Christmas decorations, Jeff obliged without pause.

About halfway through the sea of lighted Christmas trees I burst into tears.
Jeff did not ask why and I did not have to say. Complicated thing this Christmas attachment is.
In the New York Times article I was quoted as saying that I would cry when the stuff of our lives goes, but this was actually a misunderstanding. As I looked at the sea of our stuff, piled to the ceiling, the thing that I knew would draw tears was actually only the Christmas decorations.


I'm kidding, you are thinking? Nope. I watched the leather furniture and Indian antiques load onto the truck with jokes and a light heart. I packed my gourmet kitchen tools into a box and whittled down my wardrobe to the very most basic and practical without much worry and no attachment, but the Christmas decorations in the hardware store are reducing me to tears.

Something about the spirit of Christmas has brought me such peace throughout my life, and I discovered very early on that it had nothing to do with the gifts, but rather, was in spite of them.
There was a time in my life when I was one of those angels on the tree at the mall and the local church brought a gift to my sister and I. It is not the gift giving that I love, but rather, everything else all together making a seemingly magical time of year... a spark in the air... a feeling which I could all but pluck from the sky.

It is part twinkling lights, part glowing candles, part shimmering, shining ornaments... A dash of cinnamon, a twist of wood-smoke and a sprig of pine and you have a recipe for magic.
Add in the rituals of the season and the world is temporarily filled with my very most favorite things.


Over the years my Christmas tree turned from a decoration into a ritual... a meditation... a work of art. Something which I loved so very much that the tree would be standing in the corner of the room no later than the morning after Thanksgiving, and on the occassions when my partner was feeling particularly generous, he would have it up for me, after the children where in bed following the big Turkey feast, as I sat sipping cocoa with my feet tucked up and tired from a three days of cooking.

I am one of those people who is utterly blissed out during the Month of the Tree, beginning with the stringing of 2,500 white lights from the bottom to the top, inside and out of the tree.
All told, the process would take me 20-30 hours as I pulled each ornament from it's box, twirled it and enjoyed, and picked it's perfect place on the tree.


I delighted in other's enjoyment of it, but truly, it is one of those few things that I did completely for myself. During the month of December there was never a night that I did not take the time to sit in the room, silent inside and out, in the glowing light of my tree.

So, when I walked through the tree display this afternoon at the hardware store I was swept by so many emotions. You see, the initial basking of the lovely trees was immediately followed by the understanding that this year things would be different. Exactly how they will be different remains to be seen, but this is the very first moment that I have felt a sense of longing for things let go.

People almost always ask me if it was hard to give away our things, our way of life, the answer has always been a very honest, "No." I never really gave a second thought to the things which we donated, the utter lack of attachment to these objects even surprised me a little.

Tonight I am sitting with the feelings, watching and giving them the space they need to rise and wash away. I feel peaceful in knowing that I will fill my enjoyment of the season from other sources this year and through that I will more fully appreciate the process and the value... being open to the beauty of life as it unfolds with the security of knowing that anything which is important to me can be brought back when the time and the space allows it and in the meantime I will embrace the things which are occupying it now.


This year when I pause to take in the seasons sights and scents I will also give pause to appreciate the beauty of the path which we are on, the sacrifices we have made to follow our dreams and the incredibly solid love that provides the foundation which our family is built upon.

This year we will help friends and family decorate their trees, we will pause before the windows of strangers to appreciate theirs and we will wallow in the love grown sappy with the pine of the season.

Pun intended. ;-)