I don't give much thought to the holidays throughout most of the season. The excitement of youth wore off decades ago, of course, but even my previous ba-humbug-ery towards the hyper-commodification of the holiday has largely worn off. It's just a busy season to my eyes. I don't actually celebrate on the day, either. Most years, I intentionally isolate myself, staying cozy in my home.
However, I'm not anti-holiday. On the day itself, I've come to find a zen-like peace, as the world slows down, and the expectations of the daily grind come to a halt, and I can just fully chill out. I do pretty much the same things I always do any other given day I'm stuck at home, but without the nagging anxieties of life's many burdens. I do the same for Thanksgiving. Between the storms of insane pile-on at work, media blitzing, social frenzy, and the erratic shifts of weather, these two holidays are bookends of calm that I've come to appreciate all the more in my older years. For right now, in this time and place, everything is alright.
Merry Christmas, everyone.
