People who lead adventurous lives inevitably find themselves spending at least one Christmas alone. One year I was traveling alone through Spain. Another year, because a deep family sorrow had made me unfit company, I chose deliberately to be alone as a kindness to myself as well as to others.
I remember the year I was again alone on the great day – not out of sorrow but because there was a writing deadline to meet and I would rather have kept my word than celebrate. Reflecting on these solitary Noels, I find that in retrospect they file themselves away as unique and therefore memorable.
Happy Christmases are all alike. They belong largely to children and department stores. Most of us who are no longer children, reflecting that Christmas has a way of coming ’round too often, have on occasion circled in the December dossier when we fled the festivities, escaping into a less emotional world of strangers. Consider the popularity of Christmas cruises, for example.
But temporary companions can be as effete as permanent ones. And so it is that there is a rare dignity in spending the day totally alone, a dignity that should be respected – yes, even honored. And sanctimonious jollity superimposed upon it by well-meaning but insensitive strangers is an odious form of vulgarity.
Charity at this season can seem more than ever obsequious. It implies that any company is inevitably better than your own. For solitude at this most holy of times to be considered a sort of secret shame speaks rather ill for the soul of man.
Reams have been written about the trauma of enforced holiday pleasure – the “chin up, act as if you are having a good time” syndrome. But so insidiously is this season’s ritual forced into our beings that too many, who might for personal reasons actually prefer solitude, choose instead the face-saving frivolity. Frivolity forced upon the consciousness and carried to extremes swings its pendulum to letdown.
It is easy to understand why the day after Christmas is accounted to be the worst in the entire calendar. Not so with refurbishing solitude that brings with it an enhanced appreciation of society. While those about them were frolicking, Moses climbed to the mountain and Jesus sought the quiet of Gethsemane.
And so to those of you who will also be alone on the great day, I say: Court again the true Christmas joy. Whatever your reason for solitude, rejoice. Plan your solo day in advance. It is true that self-pity can make being alone at Christmas the most severe, indescribable, unendurable sort of anguish. It can even cause one to contemplate suicide. If you were to spend the day with loved ones – that would require planning. To stave off the gloomzies also requires a bit of planning and a firmly glued-in mind set.
Don’t go unshaven or unkempt. While you cannot build character in solitude, you need a formed character with which to properly greet solitude. No need to stay indoors, hiding. Go for a walk or, better still, for a long hike. While the rest of the world speeds up, slow down temporarily to enjoy the blessings of nature. Look for and find your own private miracle.
It was on an a capella, California Christmas that I found the absurdly early shoot of a bearded iris, thrusting itself through the 3-inch blacktop at the side of the freeway. I shall never forget the thrill it gave me to see that life is stronger than death and to be reassured inside my damaged self that great joy can press upward through great sorrow.
Keep your Christmas by editing out for this one solitary day your hurts and disappointments.
Reflect upon the good things that have happened to you in your lifetime. Remember the love you have given and the love that has been so joyously given to you. Life can be a series of great victories, cunning triumphs or sensational good fortune.
But the memories of love overshadow everything. That is what Christmas really means. All else is tinsel.
The trouble with Christmas is that it is often simply too much. Abundance can be redundance, and for this one year less can indeed be more, if you make it so.
The feeling of Peace on Earth is a solitary feeling. Goodwill toward all men is a private, inside-the-skin emotion. Court your own joyous privacy on this solitary day.
After all, who does God ever have to share Christmas with?
Marjorie Bruce (marjoriebruce@ netzero.com) taught English, drama, public speaking and creative writing for three decades. This piece first appeared in Ladies Home Journal in the 1970s.
