It’s the thought that counts.
This year, I’m really not feeling the holly jolly in the lead-up to Christmas. I blame the regressive bigots in charge of the country, sucking the good out of everything, and New Zealand’s new tourism strategy — turning the South Island into a giant open-cast mine — not sounding like a winner. I thought about leaving for Australia like everyone else, Coolangatta being practically a suburb of Auckland these days, but it feels too late in life for me to take such giant step into the unknown.
I’ll stay here and go down with the ship; it’s a beautiful ship.
Not feeling upbeat and cheerful at the moment isn’t some kind of failure (just as leaving for Australia isn’t unpatriotic, as columnist Verity Johnson pointed out) — it’s just a reaction to what we’ve been through this year and the result of constantly being in survival mode. The creeping incremental insecurity, the sneaky erasing.
But you can’t be a whingey sprocket over Christmas. It harshes everyone’s vibe. So how to get into the Christmas spirit? There are things I have advocated for in the past, but now do not recommend:
► Indulging in festive sparkle, or drinking your way through it. An old Kiwi standby that comes with associated dangers like falling off your Christmas heels, saying something terribly honest to your nearest and dearest, and not being able to stop once you’ve begun.
► Watching Christmas movies. Can only be done with the aid of step one, so, vicious cycle.
► Making and eating mince pies. Does anyone actually like these revolting claggy fruit sacks? Disgusting. Worse than cranberries in a salad. I just know that the people who eat these will immediately start talking about how great tantric sex is and spray you with the crumbs.
► Wrapping presents. Sellotape is a prime conductor of rage, everyone knows that.
Much better to find things you are grateful for.
Gratitude is such a simple way to change how you feel about where you are in this moment, finding and cherishing the gems that exist in your life. The Yorkshireman is all about looking at things from a glass-half-full perspective. He is the yin to my grinchy yang.
So here’s my attempt at turning breadcrumbs of gratitude into a lolly cake of thankfulness.
► My daughter is coming over from Australia to spend Christmas with our extended family on the West Coast and she’s really excited about meeting the people of the Burrell family chat, who already love her unconditionally because she’s blood.
► My mum’s health is good, she is recognised in her community for the wise woman she is, and she finally got hearing aids and stopped shouting, "That’s wonderful darling" when you tell her you ran over the cat.
► I’m grateful for the view out my window of the Pūrākaunui estuary which always calms me and lifts my mood.
► I’m glad that I haven’t completely fallen apart, even though most days it feels like it’s not far off, as my knees make a creaking noise, and turning my head too fast puts my neck out.
► I’m grateful that I haven’t lost my job yet, even though the government hates me and thinks I’m a demonic eggbeater.
► I like how the man with the head tattoos who lives next door always says "Hello" when we pass on the street and tells me about his latest small win.
► The tree that fell down in the wind and missed my car by a metre.
► Sea lions.
► Jumping into a cold lake on a hot day.
► The smell of fresh clean clothes dried on the line by the sun.
► Having that first shower after you’ve been away tramping.
► Tūī.
► Rainbows.
► A chair to sit in and read a book.
► Peonies and the way they slowly unfurl from round bulbs into soft fragrant bowls that drop their petals on the table like a work of art.
► Sunshine on your face.
► That I have a roof over my head.
► Most of all, I’m grateful for you.
