Harsh Cold Brings Warmth

Yes, it was way too cold yesterday but we were incredibly lucky that the sun came out for basking. I had to try hard to find something to complain about. Friends and supporters came by, lots of jokes and warm conversations kept us from looking at the clock so much, and somehow we all finished up the day. The cathartic scream at the end was a few minutes early...but 5:00 turned out to be kind of a suggestion instead of a real time. I was off the blocks before 6:00 for probably the first time ever.

And now the pressure-filled week to get ready for Holiday Market and the quick rush of Thanksgiving with its one-day workweek. I'm counting on my obsessive inventory to get me through the first weeks, hoping I guessed right, with plenty of blanks ready to print for the finer adjustments when things sell that I hadn't anticipated.

Even I get a little tired of my preaching but I want to remind everyone to take the time to look within and think good thoughts. Pretty much everyone is changed by the Holiday Season, gaining enthusiasm or becoming increasingly distressed as all of the external messages remind us that we do not have the picture-perfect family or the *right* house and hearth and we mostly don't get the exact gift for someone to let them know how much we care or are willing to make the effort. I would venture to say that everyone feels this stress no matter what their economic status or emotional stability or inner strength. Even people who don't celebrate *our* holidays.

Then layer on the regular life stress of harsh weather (or in the case of the Australians, missing the harsh weather perhaps) and the international germ exchange that is Thanksgiving weekend and you have a great formula for losing your center and acting or feeling rather irrational. You might feel judged or invisible or just wrong or just hurt. It's a lot easier in mid-summer to take your dog for a walk or take yourself to sit by a stream and be renewed by nature, and a little harder now as nature shrivels up and the birds clamor for something to eat.

I know my pitfalls are that I hide out and at the same time feel invisible and like no one really cares what my challenges are, and guilt myself for not setting up the warmth I want to feel. I'm going to a memorial today for someone I feel kinship with, though I wouldn't say we were close. I watched a memorial for her, taped where she lived and was most active, and was touched repeatedly by what the mourners did and didn't say. Her daughter was so eloquent and thoughtful that it made me think I want to prepare a bit more for the inevitable time I shake off this mortal coil.

My friend lay peacefully in her house, undiscovered for awhile, and this is a major fear for me with my tendency to isolate and not check in with people very often. I got over it when one of the participants said what a natural way that was for someone who loved nature so much. Death is a natural end, and even alone a death can be a peaceful passage. There shouldn't be guilt from those who weren't there, didn't sense it coming, or didn't do more to help an isolated person. Guilt is self-inflicted in emotional times, a punishment we have learned to use to (we hope) correct our imperfections. I use way too much of it, and it isn't helpful unless it serves to push us to not repeat the *sins.* Judgment, even self-judgment, is generally projected on oneself just as much as it is used by others. Maybe more.

We are self-destructive, for so many reasons, and this time of year the media encourages lots of forms of self-destructive behavior, from overspending to obsessive dieting to tons of moments of self-sacrifice. In a twisted way it is all supposed to make us feel good, and we sometimes do for a moment. I teared up a little yesterday, several times, when I purchased things like a beautiful bag of rolled oats and some bruised pears that fell out of my ripped plastic bag over at the Farmers' Market. It made me feel emotional to project how it felt to the farmers who had boxes of pears to load back into storage at the end of the day, or rooms full of packaged oats that needed to get to the people who love oatmeal in the winter. I felt bad for all of us who were so cold yesterday, and all of us who have tried to sell outside for so many winters despite the daunting physical conditions, and those who had to make the choice not to sell yesterday. I know how hard it is to live on the edge and feel afraid of falling over on the bad side of it. I have an overabundance of empathy about some things and completely miss others. I can bounce around from grief to joy to despair to gratitude and I am guessing that this is a normal emotional state for most people most of the time. Calm unworried people stand out this time of year.

But we can all give ourselves a break from this type of stress, take it easy on ourselves and just let things be. We can give ourselves permission to share our concerns in ways that don't put them on others, that work with our shared goals and don't just overflow our anxieties into the stream to bigger fears. We can be conscious and giving and use what strengths we do have to keep the bigger boat afloat.

So take a few moments today to sit in that sun, feed the birds (and the pesky squirrels) and allow yourself to remember joy. Remember peace and how it feels, caring without strings and how that gives, love without fear of loss. Do it imperfectly. Shrug off some negative impulse or thought and do something caring for yourself or for someone you kind of like or love deeply or even someone you can barely tolerate. I read a fantastic essay this week which referred to a book by Bob Hoyk, called The Ethical Executive. I haven't read the book but the point that stuck with me was the concept of Ethical Traps. He listed 45, apparently, and it doesn't matter right now what they are, but the idea of a trap matters to me.

You make choices that are driven by whatever is most pressing, and each one brings up another ethical question, for instance the choice between driving and biking, or buying one product over another. I started this week buying products labeled no GMOs. I didn't look at them to see if they were affordable (a $7 dozen eggs is not the most sensible purchase for a poor-ish old person) or if they were local (the eggs were, the chips weren't) and I know my two purchases are not going to get rid of Monsanto seeds. Some of the traps mentioned in the essay were #28: Zooming Out, which means that when you try to take a bigger perspective on your actions you get discouraged that they don't matter on the world scale at all. The little bit of gas I didn't use yesterday by biking is so tiny on the world scale that no one will feel an improved life by me working a bit harder to get my goods to Market. And a bag of chips...so many bags of chips.

This will get way too long if I continue to discuss Ethical Traps in detail, but just consider how many times you trap yourself in circular thoughts as you try to make choices and sort your priorities to serve yourself and your community. I'm going to explore this some more for myself and see if I can release myself from some of those very personal and vexing traps. The wonderful essay was in Creative Nonfiction issue #51 (which I got at the library...814.008 is a great section if you like nonfiction) and no doubt there are many places to read about ethical traps, but to circle back to my earlier point, go easy on yourself.

Be kind this time of year when summer has taken its grace and fled south. Be kind to the birds, to your neighbors (if they haven't raked the leaves off their sidewalk, maybe you could spare ten minutes to do it) and to yourself. Don't get trapped in trying to feel good by making yourself suffer. That's just a tiny bit counter-intuitive.

I'm going to the memorial service to feel good. I've avoided a lot of them in the past in the fear that I would publicly cry (or not) and leave feeling more fearful and depressed about the death than touched by the process and the departed person and their circle. I was afraid of the feelings that might come up in me or someone else. Once I started forcing myself to just show up, I found out that memorial services are not like that. I have never left feeling worse. It has each time been very important to take that moment for the honoring of the imperfect person who lived a life. Instead of adding a burden to my emotional load in a season that is too full, it has freed me from one.

This is something I love about life and why I read nonfiction, the sometimes brutal but always beautiful examination of real life and what really happens. That is the courage of an activist, the courage of Hilary, to look at what is really happening and not pretend things are otherwise. The Christmas season of ridiculous excess and guilt is really happening, and we who sell crafts that are sometimes entirely unnecessary in a basic needs sense sometimes feel trapped in our participation (read: Buy Nothing Day.) We're conflicted, we're confused, but we don't have to get trapped in it.

Keep your priorities straight, and your goals in mind. Surviving the winter means selling our stuff. There are people who want it, people who love us (or wouldn't if they really knew us) and there are still a million contradictions every day to mire us down if we let them. Don't get mired down. Take care of yourself and take care of each other. Be kind and as generous as you can be. Frost is beautiful and spring will come again. Let's enjoy the warmth of a candle, the smell of cinnamon, and the tears that leak from the corners of our eyes when we are doing a simple transaction that signifies a huge step in the right direction for humankind.

Everything is essential and important and at the same time ephemeral and made of nothing that will last. People live and die, give and take. Live more, give more, and try not to get trapped. And don't work too hard. All will be well.