Cindy on December 27th, 2011
It’s a DIY world, but you can’t do it alone. Build your team as wisely as you would choose typefaces or words for lyrics. Embrace your place on earth as creative. Give thanks you
were given this gift to share. Turn a deaf ear to those who say the path of art is hard. Doing something you don’t love is a much harder path.” – Patti Digh, from What I Wish for You
– Original mixed-media art by Cindy La Ferle –
Cindy on December 23rd, 2011
And they’ll feast, feast, feast, feast. They’ll eat their Who-Pudding and rare Who-Roast Beast. But that’s something I just cannot stand in the least. — Dr. Seuss, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas
Earlier this week, there was a wee bit of dissent among Facebook friends when I replaced my profile photo with an image of Dr. Seuss’s irascible Grinch. I made the change after returning from a nerve-sizzling shopping expedition at one of my favorite grocery stores, which was insanely over-crowded with other crabby holiday shoppers. Climbing back into my car in the over-crowded parking lot, I’d encountered even more crabby shoppers jockeying for position. I wanted to roll down the window and yell: Why in the hell are we doing this?!?
Those who don’t know me personally were surprised to learn on Facebook that I don’t enjoy Christmas as much anymore — although one friend sent a private message to applaud my courage for admitting it.
After all, Christmas has become an official American holiday, so it would have been nicer, more politically correct, to keep my mouth shut. From outward appearances, Christmas is all about buying stuff, trying to digest rich foods we shouldn’t eat, spending money we should save, and reenacting Victorian family myths that don’t always work for our own families.
Bashing Christmas, I’m told, is an act of treason — at least to the most patriotic among us.
But there you have it. After years of studying and writing about the history of its varied (and admittedly bizarre) traditions, I’ve come to believe that Christmas is one of the most contradictory holidays anyone could dream up.
For starters, we all know that Jesus wasn’t really born on December 25, and that mistletoe swags and Christmas trees originated with pre-Christian Celtic pagans. Being of Celtic descent, I’m secretly proud of all the trimmings brought to the feast by my ancient ancestors. But I also know that the holiday itself was manufactured by Roman Catholics who wanted to convert the boisterous pagans to Christianity, so, voila, the Winter Solstice festival known as Saturnalia suddenly became Christmas. And so did all the over-the-top feasting and partying that went with it.
Fundamentalist Christians still insist that “Jesus is the reason for the season” — but when you look at the origin of this “holiest of holy days,” you can see that the “season” was also about something else, just as it is today.
Religious faith is not in question here. And I’m not suggesting a return to Winter Solstice revelry, though I think it’s lovely to acknowledge Mother Nature’s changing seasons. I’m just saying that it’s important to consider the origins of all that we choose to celebrate. A few ancient history lessons help to explain the seemingly random blending of Christmas customs such as baking cakes in the shape of yule logs with the tradition of buying computer games and toys for kids. If Christmas is a time of reflection, we need think on those things too — and what they mean to us.
While I don’t feel a need to explain my religious views or church affiliation here, I do want to add that I have deep respect for Jesus and his teachings.
Which is, partly, why I wonder what the messiah would think of American Christmas rituals and the weird things we do under the guise of celebrating his honorary birthday. If Jesus were to stop by for Christmas dinner, for instance, would he feast on Grandma’s honey baked ham — a meat that’s forbidden by the Scriptures he upheld? (One of my Jewish friends and I had a great conversation about this recently.) What would he think of all the stuff we buy? Would he be touched or appalled by all those garish plastic nativity scenes imported from China (or the blow-up Frosty the Snowman) displayed on our neighbors’ lawns? Just imagine.
I know there are others like me out there — weary folks who’d prefer to restore some sanity to what is, in essence, a beautiful holiday. I believe it would help if we could unload the emotional baggage and release some of the pressures that arrive in Santa’s sleigh along with all the presents.
A Christmas essay I wrote last year for David Crumm’s “Read the Spirit” explores my conflicted feelings about the season on a much deeper, personal level. I wrote the piece because I wanted my son to understand why I’ve struggled with Christmas every year. Some of you read it last year, but new readers may have missed it. Please click here if you’d like to read it.
Meanwhile, I really hope you have a great Christmas, however you celebrate. I hope you have some time to be still, reflect, and know your blessings. Wishing you peace. -- Cindy La Ferle
Cindy on December 12th, 2011
Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.” ~Norman Vincent Peale
Give me any holiday, and I’ll make a greeting card for it. No matter how crazy-busy life gets, I like to think of card-making as instant art therapy. It’s a terrific way to unwind after a long day, and I can vouch for the fact that it’s incredibly easy (and economical) to do. Here are a few tips to get you started.
Gather a batch of recycled greeting cards or magazine clippings that strike your fancy. Or, dig through your own family photo albums for funny vintage shots — and jot down a clever message or sentiment that works with them. (If the relatives in the photo are still breathing, you might want to ask their permission to immortalize them on a funny card. Otherwise, you’re good to go.)
Next, make a list of craft supplies you’ll need to assemble and complete your cards.
Michael’s, the craft store, carries packages of blank cards with envelopes in all sizes. While you’re at it, pick up a few bottles of glitter, glue sticks, stickers, and other trims that work with the theme you’ve chosen. Clear space at your kitchen table, then grab your scissors … and start playing! There’s a certain charm in a crafty, handmade card — so don’t feel you have to aim for glossy perfection. (That’s what Hallmark is for.)
Michael’s also carries a variety of stamps with greeting card messages for any holiday or season, or your can print your own sentiments. The card shown above is one of two designs I’ve been working on this season. I also purchased several packages of star confetti to sprinkle inside each card, to carry out the “Christmas magic” theme. –CL
Cindy on November 21st, 2011
The willingness to share does not make one charitable; it makes one free. ~Robert Brault
At a holiday book signing last week, I met another author who enjoys all aspects of publishing a book — except for self-promotion. We chatted about the hard realities of keeping our books on store shelves and Amazon.com; about how exhausting it can be to get out there and hustle.
As much as we like to meet our readers, writers tend to be more comfortable recording our thoughts quietly at home. That said, we can’t sell books if we hide behind a desk or a laptop.
So, here’s my shameless annual holiday plug for Writing Home. For every new copy sold between now and January 1st, I will donate $5 to the Welcome Inn, a day shelter serving the homeless in my community from mid December until mid March. The Inn offers case management services, a cereal breakfast, hot lunch, showers, laundry, online computers, clothing, and a variety of other services. With southeast Michigan’s economy at an all-time low, things are even tougher for people without homes and jobs, not to mention organizations like the Welcome Inn.
I’ve been donating my Writing Home profits every holiday season because “home” has always topped my gratitude list — and I want to give back to my community. I’ve been blessed, all my life, to live in wonderful homes with an incredibly supportive family, surrounded by caring neighbors. Which is, pretty much, what the stories in Writing Home are all about.
If you’re looking for something under $20 for the reader on your gift list, please consider visiting Amazon.com and buying a new copy of my book. (Link provided above.) In Oakland County, stop by the Yellow Door Art Market, where you’ll find my book as well as other gift items made by professional Michigan artists.
From my home to yours, I am wishing you a wonderful Thanksgiving — and many blessings to count.
–Holiday photo by Cindy La Ferle-
Cindy on November 7th, 2011
Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.” — Emily Bronte
I’m not very good at weather predictions, but it’s safe to say that Michigan residents will experience a drop in temperatures in a few short weeks. We’ll be pulling out our weather-proof boots and shuffling (and sliding) through … snow.
Folks who enjoy winter sports might welcome the change; they’ll wax poetic about the elegance of fresh powder on the ski slopes and snow clinging to bare branches. But I’m a three-season gal who likes it warm and colorful: Give me spring, summer, or fall.
The photos in this post were taken on our property in Royal Oak on November 6th. While many of our trees have lost their leaves, some are still ablaze with color, and I can’t remember a year when autumn managed to hang on this long.
There’s always something bittersweet in the change of any season, but fall is especially poignant. Whether you’ve just sent your youngest child off to kindergarten or to college, you sense the inevitable march of time. You feel the urge to get things done while you can. But it’s also wise to remember, as Anna Quindlen pointed out, that “Life is not so much about beginnings and endings as it is about going on and on and on. It is about muddling through the middle.”
Yesterday, I stood in awe in the middle of our front lawn, trying to photograph the cobalt blue sky and the late afternoon sun filtering through the maple leaves. It looked as though the whole afternoon had been tinted with a paintbrush dipped in gold. I want to remember how it all looked — when I’m staring out my home office window on a January morning, and the same trees are bare and covered with snow. — CL
