May You Always Hear the Sleighbells

Well, here we are! The last Sunday before Christmas! Despite the chaos and craziness of this year, I’ve found that time has just flown, especially these past four months. I’m looking forward to some much-needed downtime, snuggling on the couch in my Pimp Daddy housecoat and snacking on some popcorn. Maybe I’ll watch a movie or two. Maybe I’ll pull out the old guitar and entertain my neighbours through the living room window or maybe I’ll just sit, chill, and do nothing. Whatever it is, I’m looking forward to embracing the time to recharge and refuel.

I love the holiday season, and I say holiday season because there are so many different holidays celebrated in the span of three weeks or so by so many different people. Christmas always seems to get top billing but the whole season is filled with love, togetherness, and magic. For sure, this season will be quite different in the physical sense of not being able to gather together with our loved ones like we may have wanted but that doesn’t mean we have to give up on the spirit of the season. For me, the spirit of the season is what it’s all about.

When I was nineteen my baby niece gave me the book, “The Polar Express” for Christmas. The caption, written by her Mom said,

“To Aunt Tricia – Who will always hear the sleighbells.”

And I think in that one sentence she nailed who I am and how I try to live my life. If you don’t know the book or now the movie, “The Polar Express” is a story about a little boy who begins to doubt whether or not Santa is real. On Christmas Eve, a train arrives outside his bedroom window and he gets on and is taken to the North Pole. At the North Pole, he is chosen to receive the first gift of Christmas, so the little boy asks Santa for a single bell from his sleigh. Santa obliges, and cuts a bell from his sleigh and the little boy puts it in his pocket. Unfortunately, there is a hole in boy’s housecoat pocket, and he loses the bell.

The next morning, Christmas morning, he awakes back home in his house, and there is a small box with his name on it amongst all the other presents under the Christmas tree. When he opens it up, it contains his lost silver bell. When he shakes it, both he and his little sister light up at the sound of its beauty, but his parents are baffled that someone would send him a bell that didn’t work. The secret wasn’t that the bell didn’t work, it was just that the parents couldn’t hear it. Only those who believe in the spirit of Christmas can hear the bell.

So, the moral of the story is, if you believe in the spirit of Christmas, then you’ll always be able to hear the bell – no matter how old you are. And while this is a Christmas specific story, I think it applies to the holidays in general and just believing in the spirit of the holidays and what that means to each of us. To me, the spirit of Christmas means so many things. Love, kindness, gratitude, togetherness, giving. But I think the biggest thing is having that childlike wonder to suspend all adult rational thought and just believe in something magical, if only for a moment.

Can a snowman come to life? You’re probably thinking, no way, but how do you know for sure? Are you watching it every second of every day? No, so, you can’t say for certain that it doesn’t, can you? I mean logically, of course a snowman can’t come to life, but if you believe? Maybe, just maybe it can. That five-year-old buried deep inside you sure does believe a snowman can come to life. So, when did that change? When did we stop believing?

Because the minute we stop believing in Santa and Frosty and flying reindeer and magic bells is the minute we stop believing that anything is possible. We’ve set our feet firmly on the ground and thrown in the towel. Life will never be the same. And that’s not something I’m willing to give up. I’m not willing to dash the hopes and dreams of that five-year-old inside of me. The one that believes in the goodness of the world and the purity of wonder.

That five-year-old has gotten me through some tough situations as an adult, just being able to draw on her curiosity and her unabashed reliance on imagination. That little girl always makes me crack a smile, and I’m so lucky and blessed to have her living and dreaming inside of me. I cannot even imagine what my days would be like without her. Well, boring for one. Honestly, who wants to adult every minute of everyday? Not me, that’s for sure.

As adults we’ve become so jaded. We’ve forgotten what it’s like to experience that pure unadulterated joy of living in the moment and not having a care in the world. And I get it, as adults we have responsibilities and we have stresses, especially around the holidays when expectations run high and sometimes finances can’t live up to those expectations. But surely you can remember? Surely you can think back to one moment of pure bliss, where your little heart was so full of joy and happiness. Maybe it was as simple as finding a beautiful seashell on the beach or writing your first story or just cuddling in the arms of someone you loved.

Adults have conditions. We’ve grown accustomed to the cause and effect of everything we do. We’ve lost the spontaneity that comes with being a kid. Just running ‘cause we feel like running, or singing our guts out because we feel like singing. Now it’s like, “Well the neighbours might laugh if I just all of a sudden start sprinting up the street and I’m not wearing my supportive bra, so running is out, and if they heard my singing voice, they’d start a petition to expel me from the neighbourhood, so maybe I’ll just sing quietly to myself.”

HELL NO! Sing if you want to! Run if you want to! Who cares! Let that little kid out to play! Dance! Sing! Be Merry! Be yourself and show some love to that little spunky spirit that desperately wants to come out. While I fully admit that I am more child-like than most adults I know – okay every adult I know – I’m okay with that, in fact, it’s one of the qualities I like most about myself.

I love that I connect so deeply with my child inside. For starters, it means I’ll never be alone. She’s always there for me to talk to and I can assure you, we have some great conversations. Second, when I’m being too adult-like, monotonous, and concerned with adult things, she smacks me upside the head, as a reminder that I’m neglecting her. She doesn’t like to be neglected, at least for very long anyways. I think that’s one of the reasons I never stay down for long periods at a time. She just doesn’t let me. In some way, shape or form, she lets me know that she’s still there and she’s done waiting patiently for me to play with her, so I’d better hop to it.

Thirdly, she keeps me young. I’ve been told many times before that I’m an “old soul” and I’ve thought about it and I don’t think it’s me necessarily that is the old soul, but it’s the child inside of me who better deserves that moniker. She is the one with the vision. She is the one that keeps me spiritually connected to who I am and to the world around me. I live vicariously through her. She’s the one that let’s me spin tales with my imagination and she’s the one who keeps me up at night with her crazy curiosity.

She’s the one the pushes me to believe in the goodness of people and sanctity of honest, real connections. She’s the one that makes me ask why? And what can I do to help or what can I do to make it better? She’s the one that remembers what it’s like to be loved so intensely and unconditionally and reminds me to try and spread that love to other people as much as I can. She’s the one who still needs someone to kiss her boo-boo better and welcoming arms when’s she’s hurt or feeling sad.

She’s the reason I believe in Santa, not as an entity anymore, but as a magical figure of love and giving, and she’s the reason I get so excited for the holidays and spending time with friends and family. Because of her, I am free to be a crazy fool, to make snow angels, and just have uninhibited fun and joy in my life. Some people may call me immature, and that’s okay, I understand. And you know what? I forgive them, it’s really not their fault. They just can’t hear the sleighbells anymore like I can.

Or maybe, they’ve just tuned them out. If you’re like them and can’t hear the sleighbells anymore, maybe the challenge this holiday season is to clear out all that adult clutter from your brain. It doesn’t have to be forever. But just for a moment, clear out that clutter and listen hard. Think back and go deep. Find that moment or moments when that kid in you rained supreme. Close your eyes. Think. Remember. When that little grin starts to creep across your face, you’ll know you’ve found her. You just have to believe she’s there because she IS in there somewhere, and she is pulling on your heartstrings. Listen to her. Acknowledge her. Let her know that you haven’t forgotten about her after all these years. Promise her a playdate. Book it in your calendar right now because once you’ve awakened her, she’s a puppy barking at your heels, and she won’t take no, or “maybe later” for an answer.

It’s amazing what can happen when you allow yourself to believe, not only in yourself, but also in the impossible. Give into the magic of the season and let its power and gratitude sustain you throughout the whole next year. It opens your heart and mind to so much more, and when your well is full, it’s so much easier to give to others. And that my friends, is what the spirit of the holidays is all about!

Wait? What’s that sound you’re hearing? It’s the sleighbells silly – they only ring for those that believe. You did it. Welcome to the club – so glad you’ve finally arrived. I’ve been waiting.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holiday’s to you all. May you always hear the sleighbells.

Peace and Love.

Trish

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