I was talking with my dad yesterday about how Christmas has changed. The feeling of unity, togetherness and memory of the reason behind the holiday – hello, religion – has shifted to a desperate, clawing need to purchase, consume and pump up the masses with an artificial significance. Any Christmas meaning is, I feel, entirely lost when decorations break out in September. No longer does it feel like a holiday to celebrate family, a story, a new life and to remember traditions. The season has become one in which sales are chased, an unattainable perfection is created, and just being and enjoying and appreciating are shelved behind shiny boxes, paper and this fight for the newest, best product.
It’s disgusting, quite frankly. The concept of gift-giving has become so commercial and vile that, if I can help it, I’ve been avoiding malls and bigboxmegastores at all costs. Faceless, nameless brand products, in my opinion, are status markers – a way for people to either show off how well-off they are by owning them, or the amount of money in which they roll, by buying flashy items for others.
I’m not saying that I’m a saint – far from it – but I think that in this mad dash for consumption and need (or media-generated so-called need) to be perfect and buy the best gift at Christmas has taken away from the whole point of gift-giving. We give presents to appreciate one another, to show that we care, to convey respect and, sometimes, just to put a smile on the face of someone with whom we are close. It’s a tradition at this time of year, not a god-given right to buy, buy, buy and spend until we fall into the red, not knowing or caring from where these products are derived
The antithesis to this? Gratitude. Attending to fleetingly lovely moments that bring that magic to life. Remembering that the genuine exists and was not purchased online. And just breathing, relaxing and maintaining awareness of the present, because – as it has happened today, as it happens every day – life shifts and weaves and ends so, so fast.