I love when the world is silent.
The roads are almost empty, stores are closed, everyone’s home. It’s a day of burrowing under the blanket, listening to soft music, reading a book or hugging someone you love.
It’s a day for baking muffins or cinnamon rolls or bread. A day for meditating with my 10-year-old son as the sky rose in yellows and blues. A day for cozying up to my children still in pajamas before sending them off to their father.
A day for bending and moving energy in a yoga class with my husband. A day when everyone wishes everyone well, no matter what. No strings attached, no judgments clogging the sentiment.
But the world outside is truly quiet, and I love that. It’s a rare thing in this hyperactive connected age. Most days, cars zip and zag up and down all the roads for miles in every direction. The phone rings, emails abound, there is so much to do on most days.
For me, it’s not even a holiday, so I can just rest. BE. Delight in the consciousness of being alive.
And it snowed last night so it’s a perfect day for a perfect world.
We did the Jewish Christmas (enter: laugh track) with Chinese food and a movie on the family room TV, everyone cuddled up in pajamas and blankets, laughing uproariously. I was asleep mid-movie.
In between dinner and the movie, we piled in the car (in pajamas and slippers, yes) to drive through Christmas-decorated neighborhoods and delight in the lights and festivities of other people’s special moments. We played seasonal tunes on the radio even.
It is entirely possible to be in this world but not of it, for all of us. I can have my moments and my holidays and my meaning and not force it on anyone else. I can have my quiet and contemplation and prayer, again all mine.
And I wish for the entire world its happiness and meaning, too. It is so possible to wish everyone else well, and not just one day of the year.
It’s a goal for every day, every sentiment to be genuine, every person you encounter to want the best for. Even the difficult ones. Even them.