All the Feels

December is the month of all the feels. For me, it's a reflection of an invisible part of what it means to be a human being.  First off, I find joy in this seasonal holiday time.  The magic, the anticipation, the excitement live everywhere in the community.  Lights, music, ho-ho-ho's, smiles, chills - they pop up everywhere and, when lumped together, they amount to a (albeit sometimes muted) joyful feeling.  More personally, I find joy when family and friends are around.  I'm lucky.  In my world there is a lot more warmth and good natured familiarity than there is tension.  Joy is birthed from that reality.  I suppose holiday decorations, lights, music, festivities and the pursuit of holiday decorations, lights, music, and festivities is the tangible evidence of joy.

But melancholy sneaks in the back door and lingers in the shadows of joy. The mental snapshots of childhood Christmases or the magical Christmases when children lived at my house can make my eyes water and my chest feel constricted.  The poignancy that sits on the shelf in the closet of my memory falls off the shelf and threatens to one up joy. I usually catch the box of poignancy as it falls.  I often open the box for a moment and consider its contents but, after a bit, I close it up and return it to the shelf.  It's touching and evocative to take in those images but I want to get on with happy business.

There is something in that melancholy, however, that I can't name. Perhaps inadequacy works?  It's that feeling of "What is it we are trying to do here?  What is the point of all this?"  I tend to get lost in the feeling that "all of this" is not enough. There is the confusing and sad  knowledge that there must be something bigger than this.  Or maybe it's the sinking feeling that I might never get it right.  Not Christmas, not life.  Fortunately, this melancholy business is just part of the package that is December (and life). I can feel melancholy's presence but I can also know that it will move on in the same way that time moves on.

I love the feeling of generosity that is often present during December.  People seem to be more aware of the less fortunate and more willing to share what they have. For most people in my world, gift giving is truly more about the gift giving than the gift getting. My peeps think carefully about their peeps and they make deliberate and thoughtful choices for gifts that demonstrate affection and caring.  When a gift exchange happens, it's as if the room fills with tangible evidence of reciprocal love.

But there's also the wistfulness that  seeps into my awareness as I pack up the detritus of Christmas.  As I fold up the wrapping paper and put paper and ribbons into their box , I wonder what presents I'll be wrapping next year and for whom?  As I count the leftover Christmas cards and consider if I will need to purchase more next December, I wonder who on my list will be gone at the end of 2020.  What will rock my world before I touch these holiday decorations again?  What good surprises will appear?  What bad surprises will make me cry? What if  I am the one who is gone and this is the last time I will handle the Christmas boxes?  So much is unknown and it aches to hold only wonder about the future.

December is wrapping up today and along with it the whole holiday collection of feelings.  Tomorrow we are dropped into January, the season of resolutions and rain, foggy days and long, cold nights. The January feels tend to lean towards malaise and irritability but the light starts to return and people look longingly for spring.  Spring will come and with it a new collection of feels.  Isn't that how it is with human beings?