One More Time

We launched the Holiday Market, once again. As a veteran of every HM day way back to when it was one weekend where we made as much as we did in six weeks of the previous outdoor incarnations, all the two-week every day Dicken's Fairs, all those times when we hovered over our propane heaters wringing our hands in the snow and wind, kicking ourselves for our optimism, I can really see exactly what we have created.

The gathering indoors frees us up to enjoy ourselves so much. We go from our tightened, miserable days in the cold rain into the sparkly, warm interior, with all of its leisure and intimacy. This year I noticed the emotional release of the safety, the smoothness, the new mix of neighbors, the newbies, the lovely supportive customers who come to look at every little thing and delight with us in the blossoming of our amazing creativity. We worked hard. We had fun!

For me this is entirely due to our collective years of experiment and experience. Staff has the systems down. So many thousand decisions are made on the basis of the previous decades, knowing what doesn't work and what rewards, what stops the flow and what enhances it. The Holiday Market committee knows what to do when. Each year Beth and her management team refine procedures to embrace the new wrinkles like where the forks will be washed and what the farmers and Fairgrounds will do. Each set-up day we all lug our many loads in and arrange our many enticing wares and we gather in a big circle and eat three turkeys and lots of casseroles and get more and more comfortable in our giant, warm family.

Here on the first Monday after, I find myself full of joy, not tired and cranky. Sales could have been better, but now I see clearly that the first weekend is mostly the surveyors, people who want to see everything, don't want to miss those new vendors who only get in on the first weekend, those exceptional products that will sell quickly as the wonders that they are. We get the curious who have never been there. We get the Picadilly crowd who want hats for hunters (or blank ones) and are a bit afraid of some of us. Plenty of people took the opportunity to select from the best and take our "stuff" home. I no longer worry about not being successful there. That seems to be something we can now rely on, knock on wood just to be safe.

I used to get all conflicted about Buy Nothing Day. I'm not really a consumer, so I always wonder why I can trust so much in spreading out my consumables and having them convert to cash. I wouldn't afford some of my stuff, or that of my fellows. I might not even "see" it, in my lack of experience with the nuances of its creation and the trials that result in its display. Why do I feel so much more satisfied so early this year? What is different?

One thing is Facebook. Never before has it been so easy to share myself through photos of my work, and to visibly increase my network of friends (nevermind that lots of them are just Facebook friends, not necessarily the heart kind---sometimes they convert nicely). There is a sense of unlimited potential when friends of my brother in Australia can read my words and I can see that a post of mine can have hundreds of postviews. It's like having a personal ad agency, and a collective one with my people. We can promote each other with a click. There is always a new opportunity to do one more little thing to boost my presence in the world.

A second improvement is the strength of community we have gained this year through difficulty and adversity. From the tragedies of the winter through the struggles with our neighbors on the Park Blocks and all the way to my secretarial position which encourages me to make gestures of appreciation on the part of my organization to those who have experienced loss, I feel much more connected. I don't come and mount my 8x8 and go home alone. Every time I show up at the Park Blocks or the Fairgrounds I get a little tug in my heart from someone. I see people who have lost husbands or are struggling with medical crises or are riding the edge of functionality and I have been able to open my heart and listen and give. It adds to my joy to reach out, and to concentrate on the abundance of support instead of the scarcity. I see many "ordinary heroes" who give without question, who rise above pain and suffering to provide hope and sustenance. I enjoy offering help and playing with little kids and commiserating with anyone who asks for commiseration.

Occupy Eugene and the Movement has refreshed my hope for big change. I love it and it's brilliant, clunky process and have been energized by the terrible beauty of shining a light on what is wrong with the aim of finding what can be fixed. I see Jain and Vicki and those from my generation with our gentle wisdom, and Sam and Rob and Alley and many people I don't even know with their passion and emotional depth and innovative imagination and I see the real strength of thoughtful analysis and practiced listening skills. I see the way we continue to build on the foundation laid by changers from centuries ago, people who can't help themselves when they see wrong thinking. The fact that this evolution IS televised is the most wonderful aspect for me. I can watch the livestream of almost anywhere and see for myself what is true and what is the diabolical strategy of those who want to derail and destroy. It has never been so easy to find the truth before. I don't have to buy the marketing and the spin. I can do what I can without fear of hurting myself, which allows me to take each step of involvement at my own pace. I can see what others are doing and how they are doing it. I am inspired daily and my cynicism is at bay.

I have always wanted to do the t-shirt "Your cynicism will not protect you" but it's one of those that wouldn't sell, and would just puzzle people. I have enough products that don't sell. But now that I have my blog, I can throw these ideas out there into the tubes and I find that just as satisfying, maybe more satisfying, than making protest shirts. The current meme of putting the pepper-spraying cop into historical works of art is just cracking me up, and getting to see the brilliant cardboard signs from around the world reminds me that we are smart. People are brilliant, stellar, thoughtful and full of compassion. Just give us an opportunity to express ourselves, and stand back. On some levels, there is nothing wrong with this world, at all.

And the last thing that I see as different, which is a big subject which would lead to many blog posts and fascinate me, at least, is that I have Jell-O Art on my head when I walk through my world. All of a sudden I walk down the hall and people are staring at me in wonder. They stop me and ask about it. They are amazed with me at the magic of it. Every outfit I wear is enhanced by it. I used to dress up rather reluctantly for Holiday Market, but now it is effortless, and I understand a little more the good side of the attention women get for being attractive, which is something that usually disturbs me. Jell-O gives it just the right twist to taste delicious to me.

One of my dear friends came and looked at each piece and added several items to her art collection. She is a person who sized her life down to essentials and controlled her collections to only what she found meaningful and loveable, and to have her appreciation is gratifying. I love explaining it to people, even when they have that certain measure of disbelief and subtly back away. I feel so lucky to have something great to share, something no one has seen before, or seen too much of (yet.)

The silly, the inspirational, the intelligent, the emotional, the overwhelming, the stuff that cuts to the heart. It's all there, at the Holiday Market this year. As an organization, and in my personal efforts, we're in the refinement stage. It just gets more beautiful, more lubricated, more accessible, and more precious every moment. It's emphemeral, it's elusive, and it's priceless.

And we all get to share it. What a time to be alive.

So I'm thinking this will be the year when I don't get exhausted, or sick, or tired of everything. I won't hate all people on Christmas Eve when my memories collide with my disappointment and emptiness. I won't despair about my deprivation and forget to notice my sufficiency and abundance. What I have is enough. What I can see and touch is everything.

Whose world? Our world. Welcome to it. Please make it your own.