The UnChristmas Letter

I didn’t write a Christmas letter this year because:

1. All of my major breaks happen on social media, so I don’t need to mortar in the cracks
2. My life is so much about parenthood it’s shameful.
3. Nothing I could compose touches how deeply disturbed I am by the actions of men in power in this country and the hatred, abuse, discrimination, violence, and bullying they continue to endorse.
4. Christmas letters are our parents’ thing.
5. I have been meaning to start a blog far before I became a mother, far before I quit my day job, and this was a way to face off the procrastination monkey (reference TED Talk https://www.ted.com/talks/tim_urban_inside_the_mind_of_a_master_procrastinator?utm_campaign=tedspread–a&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=tedcomshare).

 

Last Sunday, as we do most weekend mornings, my husband, daughter and I were walking in a wondrous natural area, not more than a quarter mile from our house. It is brimming with ancient old cedars, deities whose presence astonishes me, even as it welcomes me in embrace. Our moods are contemplative and creative; discharge status: optimistic.

 

Under examination this week: the radioactive nature of interpersonal investment. I like to set my sites on goals in linear formation, but the moment I turn my attention, I find myself needing to circle back, somewhat derelict in realization. Self-improvement isn’t something I ever get to check off my list because even the characteristics I thought I had changed misbehave when no one is monitoring.

 

Impatience rues the day we manage to forgive ourselves. I am continuously assessing the next horizon, intent on what I should be managing or realizing next, on a micro or a macro level, which annihilates the present, a place my daughter is always calling me back to. Letting go is an art I study with vigor, but which I am uncertain I will ever master; the decay of my attentive intentions, rapidly outpacing energy collection. As we round the corner, my daughter campaigns for my attention in excitement. She wants to get out of the pack and toddle a ways, an apt investment in self-improvement.