Life is for Living - Don't be afraid to take out your tree

Vol.111 - Issue 4, 1/22/2009

I have a horrible confession to make. Or maybe it’s just a simple testimony to my life lately. Either way, it’s not me, and it’s mortifying, but I will say it anyway. My Yule tree is still up. For those of you who do not celebrate Yule, basically, it’s a Christmas tree. Yep. I’m looking at my calendar and wondering where did the time go? All I can say is that it went to life. I can list a number of reasons why I have not taken it down yet. We’re headspinningly busy all the time. My kids have better social lives than I do. Even so, there are coven gatherings. Working late. I go to bed earlier since I’ve taken this position as editor than I have since my kids started sleeping through the night. Another important reason is that this is the prettiest tree we have ever had, and I just can’t bear to see it go. As I was looking at my tree last night I realized how much it really and truly symbolizes my life. Even with all its imperfections, it is perfect. On bad years, the years where I couldn’t wait to “ring out the old,” the tree was out the door before Little Christmas. Not too long ago I had it down and out the next day. That only happened once in my entire adult life. It was a bad year. But the year 2008 was amazing from the start and it only got better. It was sad to see the year end, but on the other hand, I was excited for all of the changes taking place in 2009. Maybe tonight after I get home from a deadline day we will do it. David and I are planning to do this together, ceremonially removing the symbols and trinkets collected over our individual lives, throughout the years, each symbolizing different, important events, each holding cherished memories. This is our second holiday shared together with David as part of our family and now we have new ornaments and symbols, so our tree is different then anything it ever looked like before. Yet, it’s still the same. And we want to honor it and all it stands for by taking it down with care and meaning. This once ordinary conifer has been pampered since we found it. We picked it out as a family, with Ant and Allie Rose, and Tom, too, joining us. A few days later, the kids and David and I decorated. When it was done, we lay under the branches looking up at the sparkles and dangly trinkets, glass orbs and homemade crafts and said, “This is the prettiest tree we ever had.” And we meant it. Why am I writing about Yule trees at the end of January? Change. Sometimes we come to points in our lives where we need to make changes. Sometimes this comes out of necessity, sometimes out of survival. Sometimes just because change is inevitable. And good. Change means that life is moving on; free from stagnation, which only leads to illness, decay and death. My whole life is changing around me, constantly. Sometimes it’s a whirlwind. But I hang on and dig my heels in and know that eventually things will stop spinning and all will be good. Sometimes I am in control of the changes, sometimes not. So maybe this is why I am holding on to my tree. It is the only aspect of my life that I can ultimately decide its fate. I cannot control any of the people in my life, only myself. And my tree. I’ve thought about taking the ornaments, candy canes and bead garlands off, leaving the lights and star up. I’ve thought about moving it out to the front porch and keeping it lit, symbolizing the strengthening of the sun as we move out of the darkness of winter.  And I’ve thought about just getting Ant to drag it to the woods and be done with it. That would be sad, as all endings are. But it’s the most logical thing to do. There are many wonderful things that happened in 2008. But I need to let go, and just hold close the memories, and move on. The tree was in its most beautiful state when it was still a living tree. We picked it out from maybe a hundred or so cut evergreens, laying in some private entrepreneur’s front yard on Route 28, south of Mohawk, just as you come up Vickerman’s hill. For $20 we bought memories that will last a long time. Can’t go wrong with that. It was the prettiest tree there, and that is why we chose it. As the boughs settled after a few days, we realized that there was a lot of excess, so we began to trim. And trim. And trim. Until finally we had it. It fit perfectly into its designated spot and was even prettier, if possible. We strung lights, hung memories and honored Divinity with our labors. This morning I noticed the branches are drooping, the ornaments are sagging and its starting to dry out. I guess I won’t be turning the lights on anymore. I don’t really need the tree to remind me of what I already know. What it is teaching me now is that I have to remember that endings do not mean that life is over. It just makes way for new beginnings. It creates space for things to happen. To fill a void there must be a void. Better to take out the tree before it gets really ugly; or before it makes such a mess with all the pesky little needles it becomes aggravating. Better to take it out while it’s in its prime, with love. Rather than in disgust, after its become a nuisance. Sometimes you have to make hard choices. Sometimes you have to look at what you’ve created, and embrace it when it is good. But when changes come along, and life happens, you have to let go. You have to step back and say, “enough.” Then, with a loving hand you have to remove the shiny ornaments and the baubles and lights and take the tree outside. And say goodbye to that part of your life. Change is not bad. Neither are endings, or saying goodbye. It’s just a life. And what is life for? Life is for living. So live it.