First of all, Christmas. You
should be with your family at Christmas, right? Well, I’m from Iowa, my husband
is from Oregon, and we have family all over. We both love our family and
treasure the time we get to spend together, but with the prices for plane
tickets at Christmas astronomical, and the expectation of gifts nearly as high
(expected by “society,” that is, not by our family necessarily) Brian and I
decided that we were just not going to do it this year. We’ve had a big year,
and, truth be told, New York and our jobs have been wearing us out. We needed
sky and air and trees and rest, not events and presents and all day eating
fests. So we went skiing in Vermont for five days, just the two of us, and it
was perfect. It was exactly what we needed, and when we came back to New York we
were rested and rejuvenated, not fat and exhausted. This is not to say that
next year we won’t want to go home, or plan a joint trip with our family. It’s also
not to say that if you went home and sat around eating for five days that you
did it “wrong.” It’s just that we knew
that right now, this year, flying far away didn’t work for us, and so we didn’t
let anyone else’s idea of what we “should” be doing deter us from what we
really wanted to do.
I should clarify something – the “should”
in this equation is, in a sense, not real. No one actually said that we should
do anything in particular at Christmas. No one literally told us to travel
anywhere or buy anything. Our family were 100% supportive of our plans. The “should”
I’m referring to is, mostly, in my head. It’s some little voice inside me that
tells me what other people are going to say, either to or about me. Yes, there
are the advertisements; those are real. There are the Christmas songs, and
those are real too. But I knew (or at least I expected) that our families would
be fine with our Christmas plans; it was only my inner critic that was hounding
me, a critic based on my real or perceived understanding of American traditions
that I seem to have been cultivating all of my life, to my own detriment. Let
me give you another example.
What are you supposed to do on
New Year’s Eve? You know the answer – wear a sparkly hat, blow a noisemaker,
and get drunk, right? But what if you don’t want to? What if you live in New
York City and you just want to go out and get dinner with your husband in your
quiet Brooklyn neighborhood? Is that okay? According to my inner critic, and
plenty of real people I have heard over the years, it is definitely not okay,
not if you want to be cool. On the other hand, according to the new, older and
wiser me, who’s learning to ignore that bitch, it’s totally okay! And so that’s
what we did. We hung out with some neighborhood friends and chatted and drank
very little and had a relaxing, if not terrifically exciting, New Years Eve.
Maybe next year I’ll feel like getting drunk. Or maybe I’ll feel like staying
in and going to bed at 10 o’clock. Either way it will be okay, as long as I’m
doing the best thing for me on that
day, and not living my life based on other people’s ideas of how it should be
done.
Figuring out what works best for me
does not mean that I have to go against convention; it also means that I don’t
have to follow it. It does not mean doing the hardest thing, and it does not
mean doing the easiest thing. It definitely does not mean being selfish – I’m
not saying I’m doing what’s best for me at the expense of everybody else. I’m
doing what’s best for me so that I can better love and cherish and appreciate
and inspire everybody else. Taking care of ourselves is good for each other.
You taking care of yourself is good for me.
Obviously, the hard part is
figuring out what’s best for me. It doesn’t come in a daily email; there’s no
app. It’s hard for the same reason that writing is hard – because it changes
every single day, every single moment, because you have to constantly accept
new data and reevaluate. But that’s where reading comes in handy. I know that a
big part of the reason I’m coming to these realizations at all is because of
what I’ve read, both fiction and not, and because I’ve been reading extensively
(some might say excessively) since I can remember being alive. Books have
taught me that there is no standard response to life’s complexity. From reading
novels I have learned that people do things differently, feel things
differently, have different religions, and different priorities. But underlying
all of these differences are general truths – kindness and generosity are
universally acknowledged as positive forces. Forgiveness of self and others
seems less obviously a shared value in our everyday culture, but in novels it
is. I have traveled near and far, but most of what I know comes from reading
novels. One thing I know is that judgment, both of self and of others, is a
negative force that helps no one. This is something that I’m going to try to do
a better job of remembering in 2013. May I read books that remind me of it, in
a million different ways.
A few other things I want to do
in 2013 are:
See more live music
Do more yoga
Make better use of all NYC has to
offer
Write more posts for Mostly
Novels!
Thank you so much for reading my
blog. May you know what is best for you this year, and have the strength and
faith to act on that knowledge.
Happy New Year, everyone!
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