Listening to holiday music, anticipating a gathering of friends and family tomorrow for our annual latke party. In case you don’t know what they are, in celebration of Hanukkah, latkes are a combo of potatoes, onions, eggs, and flour, spiced up with (in my case,) ginger, garlic, and pepper, fried in oil and embellished with sour cream or applesauce. I have hosted this event for three decades and love the prep, as well as the party. Afterward, once my guests have gone home and my space is clean and quiet, I absorb the energy in my home just as the latkes had soaked up the bubbling oil.
This holiday season I am also anticipating the birth of my grandson who is due in January. At my son and daughter-in-law’s home, we had a low key Christmas celebration with her family. Next year, it will be far more animated with the little guy nearly a year old and the ornaments raised higher on the tree, for sure. We attended Mass at her church which was a lovely experience as the priest shared the idea that Jesus and the love he embodied were an unexpected gift. No hellfire and brimstone preaching going on. As I looked around, I noticed parishioners from various cultures. The room itself was designed in such a way that the pews were arranged in a circle; no beginning or end, no hierarchy in the seating. Afterward, I spoke with him and commented on what I had observed. He told me that the church had raised a substantial sum of money for immigrants-at-the-border rights. I plan to connect him with some of my friends who are involved in social justice causes.
As the end of the year approaches, I consider the blessings in my life; the dear friends and family who enrich me immensely, work that I was born to do, increasingly good health, a beautiful home that feels like a haven for me and all who enter, financial abundance, my Free Hugs passion and purpose, so many more things to be grateful for….and yet…
Not a day goes by that I don’t think about children in concentration camps, imprisoned by our government. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about the cruelty embodied by the current occupant of the Oval Office, wondering if he deliberately plans out the most heinous actions to see how far he can take them without repercussion. Not a day goes by that I don’t anticipate what fresh hell I will wake up to hear about. Not a day goes by that I don’t experience anxiety and concomitant heart flutters. Not a day goes by that I don’t wonder who will be killed by gunfire. Not a day goes by that I don’t rage about the injustice in the world that I feel helpless to quell. Not a day goes by that I don’t feel a need to resist mightily the rising fear, by taking positive action.
Between those two realities, I attempt to find some semblance of sanity, without taking on the feelings of others. Being an Empath, it is daunting at times, since I feel like a sponge, taking it all in.
I question if it is acceptable to have fun sans guilt. I know that depriving myself of joy isn’t going to free the children, put salve on the wounds he has caused, keep him from tweeting his ego-drenched diatribe, put a shield around the world, to protect people from being on either end of the gun, or keep me from succumbing to the fear. I recognize that in order to avoid resistance fatigue, I need to become joy-soaked and a greater force for good in the world. Knowing that doesn’t always make it easier.
If my tank is a quart low, I can’t fill anyone else’s.
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