Twas The Days Before Christmas

‍

Twas the days before Christmas, when all through the town,

Not a creature was resting, no not one was lying down…

Tis these days before Christmas, in the laid-back land of Aotearoa, when the god of time seems to cast a spell upon us, a frenetic spirit of rush, shop, spend, and be-busy.

For in Tamaki Makaurau, where I live, there’s lots of traffic, the malls are crowded, and everyone seems to be in a hurry. People are in a hurry to get from here to there, to buy this here or there, to finish what they are doing here, so they can get to there, without being late. Time is short. Time has shrunk. Only 13 days to go!!

The seasonal spell of hurriedness is in the air. Whether we are working, or shopping, or just going to visit a friend this spirit of Chronos (the Greek god of time) hangs over us. Run, run, rush, rush. Time won’t wait. As the Lewis Carroll’s white rabbit sings “I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date, no time to say hello goodbye, I’m late, I’m late, I’m late.” Then promptly careens down the rabbit hole of his own making.

Of course, some, the enlightened, organised, and efficient ones take all this hurriedness in their stride. They have already done all their Christmas shopping on-line or in November, and Christmas food is preordered and will be delivered to their door. They are sitting back in their deck chairs, sipping their kombucha, and wondering why all are not as enlightened, organised, or efficient as they.

My excuse is that I’m an ostrich. I put my head in the ground to avoid seeing what is about to hit me. Oh I love all the religious stuff of Christmas, the decorations, and the excuse to give to each other and feast up large, but preparing for this all well in advance seems to be beyond me. Laid back and sipping and feeling virtuous I’m not and do not.

And when we hurry almost inevitably mishaps happen. People drive a bit faster, a bit riskier. Car horns blare. Rude things are said. And then ‘bump!’ Somebody hits someone else. And all the cars stop. And all the drivers groan. And everyone feels grumpier. (Well, at least there’s no snow and ice on the roads here).

And when we hurry, we lose things. Or forget where the things we had a moment ago got left. Or hid themselves (that’s my theory). Like that wallet. Or phone. Or car keys. And we must retrace our steps and try and find what we lost. Which takes time. Time that is fast slipping away from us.

All of which makes us feel grumpy. It’s easy to feel grumpy at Christmas.

And the current government, a trinity of competing voices, isn’t helping. Wanting to change this, change that, introduce under urgency this or that, in order to please them or those… all before Christmas! I could wake up on Boxing Day and discover all the signage for this country and city have reverted to solely that of a county in the Netherlands and a British peer!

Run, run, rush, rush, grump, grump.

Like many of us I have learnt over the years that the antidote to hurriedness and the accompanying accidents and grumpiness is to make a choice – lots of little choices really – to take back some of that running time in order to stop, be still, listen, and laugh.

Laughter is a great antidote for grumpiness. Listening is a great antidote to forgetfulness. And stillness is a great antidote to the discombobulating spell of hurriedness. Though none of these are easy.

Twas the days before Christmas, when all through the town,

Not a creature was hurrying, all were resting lying down,

People were smiling, treating each other with care,

Laughing and sharing, for Christmas soon’d be here.

(photo: https://in2fire.com.au)