december: intention
monthly theme: [celebration]
No but like what the fuck has it meant to celebrate over the last 21 months? I mean, each breath we’re still able to take deserves a praise dance, but at what cost? There is so much to cherish and mark with a celebration, and yet it has felt impossible to separate my joy from the pure grief and destruction all around us.
Maybe celebration is the skill of holding both the dark and the light all at once, to sigh a deep breath of relief that we’ve made it back under the tree or in front of the menorah or fireplace or however things get festive in your neck of the woods… What has celebration meant while we are/were unable to gather?
The rituals of winter time (hopefully) looked different this time last year–were you able to celebrate the adjustment and sacrifice family and friends took to gather safely or not gather at all to remain safe?
Keeping safe with Covid has been a process of grief, bemoaning all the things we’ve been unable to do and the adjustments we’ve had to make. But now as I write this, I realize there is so much fortitude and tenacity to celebrate in sticking with safety this whole fucking time.
And it has been a really long fucking time to forego normalcies and niceties for the sake of not spreading a deadly virus. Not only has it been a long time, but it’s also been a heavy time. If we were to calculate the metaphysical weight of the cautions we’ve had to take to be Covid-safe, it would be so incredibly immense–beyond our comprehension, like the dark matter of outer space. Expansive and heavy to an unknowable degree.
But stepping back to hold the truth in all of this, I wonder what a celebration of caution and sacrifice could look like? The definition of ‘celebration’ damn-near has ‘gathering with community’ baked right in its core. It’s almost oxymoronic to try envisioning celebrating alone, and yet it’s how we’ve had to celebrate many things in the long yet recent past.
Earlier this year, I wanted to celebrate a freelance opportunity I’d landed and other accomplishments (like sticking with this Year of Healing project right here), but nothing seemed “right” or like it was “enough.” What would be safe and also encapsulate the joy and extravagance I was feeling in my heart?
I haven’t been to a large celebration in 21 months. I don’t even know what to expect from them anymore…and even the small Turkey Day gathering my family threw for a CDC-safe amount of extended family this year was exhausting due to the lack of social interactions that I’m now accustomed to. Everything feels different, almost to an incorrect degree… But I guess that just means it’s time to create new ideas of celebratory rituals!
When trying to revel in joy throughout this past year, I also liked to contemplate how I could celebrate without spending any money. What does celebration look like outside of the economy? Of course, the first time I tried to do this by meditating on all that is good in my life, it fell far shorter than clinking my drinks with friends and hitting the nearest dance floor. Joy and festivity is a full-body experience that deserves an equally holistic expression.
The quickest fix to maintain safety and full-joy-capacity has personally been intention. And noooo, that’s not some cute tie-in to this week’s approach, but it does work really well. Intention has helped me to acknowledge the fullness of my celebrations even as small as they were. Speaking the truth of gratitude helped me to feel it in my entire being. Naming the work I’ve done, sitting back and smiling at the bravery I showed in facing new challenges, all of these things required no money and no risk of catching Covid.
Of course, being intentional isn’t the fun and reckless girls night out I know we’re all craving, but it felt even more potent. I was grounded in the truth of my experiences–the easy and the hard parts of it. Being intentional with my celebrations has helped me get through these past 21 months.
I’ve had to dig deeper into the meaning I give my life and the actions that carry me through it. I’m hoping this intentionality brings celebration to every breath I take, but it’s not something as easily maintained as the subconscious in and out movement of our lungs. Celebrating in this way takes effort and presence. It is about reminding yourself of why you’re here and what you want to be doing while you still can.
Approaching this month’s theme of celebration, I’ve really had to reflect back on all of our other themes. It doesn’t feel as if it can stand alone. How we express joy and celebrate triumphs relies on how we’ve gotten through and processed the shock, tension, need for control, isolation, and all the other emotional gymnastics this pandemic has put us through.
Getting through all the woes and grief of this pandemic is a cause for celebration in and of itself. But to really celebrate such a triumph, we cannot deny the less-than-festive reality of new variants and rising transmission rates. Is there a way to remain present in the universal truth while revelling in our personal joy? And what might that look like for you and yours? What intentions can you bring to the holidays this year and every celebration in between?