As a young girl, I loved this time of year. There was something magical in the air, it seemed, as though anything (no matter how improbable) were possible. To me, the world sparkled a little bit more during the winter days around the holidays. Despite the rampant commercialization, it was never really the idea of gifts that drew me in … It was the feeling of magic around me. Waking up to the first snow, seeing ice crystals glittering in the sunlight, smelling delicious treats baking in the kitchen and making crafts while listening to Christmas music. Those were the things that made my heart feel light and happy. It was a time that felt nourishing to my imagination, even at a very young age.
I still love this time of the year, although maybe not with the same heightened sense of enchantment and awe. Inevitably, growing up dims our childlike innocence, and our imaginations no longer wander quite so freely. Responsibilities, learned skepticism, “reality” and the pressures of being an adult get in the way of simple joys and fanciful notions.
The traditions of my childhood were never really anything big or fancy. They were little things that added up to a season of warmth, while the cold winds blew around the house and snowdrifts formed against the windows. They were small rituals that made the days and nights feel extra special. Going out into the forest to get a tree (no matter how scraggly and imperfect) was something I waited for with great anticipation. I loved checking my Advent calendar each morning, going sledding in the afternoon, exploring Christmas markets with my mom, and sprawling out on the floor in front of the wood stove in the evening with a library book. Moonlit walks in the snow, and twinkle lights strung in the neighbours’ yards felt like the backdrop to a festive fairytale.
Christmas movies may have added to my already magically inclined way of thinking as a child. These stories were filled with characters who celebrated magic and its ability to make us (especially children) feel empowered and to foster a mindset of possibility and growth. One of these films was the 1989 fantasy movie, Prancer. In it, Sam Elliot’s character reads the following lines from an editorial printed in a New York newspaper, in 1897, in response to a young girl’s letter asking whether or not Santa Claus was real:
“You may tear apart the baby’s rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.” (Francis Pharcellus Church)
The end of the year is so often filled with expectations that we feel we need to live up to, and obligations to attend to. The “shoulds” and the “have-tos” weigh us down and make us forget what it feels like to just be present, together with the ones we love most. It overshadows the wonderful things about this time of year and distracts us from what truly makes us feel good. The holidays shouldn’t be about having to do things perfectly or be about spending money that you don’t have. So how can we reconnect with that carefree feeling of magic we had as little kids?
One possible approach is being more intentional with whom you spend your time, keeping things simple and remembering what felt special to you years ago. Reflect and then readjust your priorities accordingly. What traditions are you keeping alive only because of a sense of obligation? What traditions lie heavy on you each year that you wish you could just let go of? What commitments end up being more of a burden than a pleasure?
And then, on the flip side, what traditions would you love to revive? What rituals used to bring you joy and a sense of excitement, when you were younger, that you’ve forgotten about? What old recipe would you like to dig out and bring back to life so that its scent and taste fill your home once again?
This year will be my daughter’s first Christmas and I’ve been thinking about what holiday rituals I want to share with her. Like Elsie Jordan wrote so beautifully in last week’s issue, there’s something truly magical about introducing these traditions to our little ones. Naturally, my daughter’s childhood memories of Christmas will be very different from mine, but I hope that no matter how different they are, they will nonetheless be filled with feelings of wonder and joy—and with a glow of love and safety. I hope that she will be able to believe in magic and let her imagination infuse her life with beauty.
In fact, I wish that for all of us. I hope we can set aside our pessimism, worries and black-and-white thinking and just enjoy a fun and life-affirming end of the year. I hope we can recognize the unseen, inexplicable magic all around us and let it remind us of how it felt to be a child.
