"Maybe Christmas,” the Grinch thought, “doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more." –Dr. Seuss

Greetings Dear Ones!

It’s that frantic week before Christmas when every customer through the door asks the same question, (just before they ask if they can have their items fixed the same day): “So! Are you Ready?”

“For the Holly-daze?” I say, “Oh, yes. I am ready!”

“Got your tree up?” Well, no… No, I don’t.

“Got your shopping and baking and cards done?” Um… no. Not those either.

“So, what are you Ready for?”

Well… let’s say I’m just Ready.

“Ready for What?”

Ready to get Ready. Ready NOT to be ready too. Isn’t that what this whole charade is about? Getting Ready? Let’s face it; we’ve all done this before. Has anything ever, in the history of plans, gone precisely According to Plan? (Not in Nancyland!) Since nothing turns out quite like we expect it to anyway, why not detach early from Outcomes and just persevere until there’s a sense of Delight, then call it a day? My inner Slacker is overjoyed at the thought of Doing Less and Appreciating More. She calls for more eggnog and Hallmark movies as we sit by the fire and spin.

Getting Ready is both the best and worst part of any project. (Just ask anyone who has ever prepped a room for painting, or removed forty-two yards of beaded lace from the hem of a wedding gown.) You don’t need a front room full of lit-up shrubbery or a smoking oven to be ready. I can celebrate the Spirit without doing a darn thing. I’m turning down the static fuzz of hectic hustle-hassles and mentally turning up the volume on everything which feels like Happiness to me. I’ve lived in Vermont for less than three months now and I’m already more mellow, grounded, and less inclined to go bludgeoning a fellow shopper for the last Blume Doll on the shelf. (It must be all that vegan Granola I’m eating.) This year, I’m going to Relax, which I’m pretty sure means “be lax again,” and unhook from all the Senseless Commercialism. Can you tell I have been doing quite a bit of “Procrasti-knitting?” Since I am happiest when I am Rationalizing, I’ve already decided that this is going to be my Happiest Winter ever. I’m Ready. Now. To hell with the details… That’s the Spirit!

Unfortunately, Prudence has teamed up with my inner Grinch to remind me why I really should be doing of all the Things I have Decided Not To Do and why I hated doing them in the first place. My attitude can plummet without warning when I hit a traffic snag by a mall, or see an exhausted looking parent dragging weeping children through the toy aisle. I have decided to embrace and celebrate this spirit of Darkness too—though it might get me in a wee bit of trouble.

So, I confess I have been actively encouraging people’s bad temper by shouting “That’s the Spirit!” when frustrations mount in the shop. I know this is very naughty of me, especially at this time of year when we are supposed to be filled with “Holiday Cheer” and “Christmas Spirit” but I cannot help it. I like a tiny bit of Hum-bug in the mix. A touch of disaster can be delightful if all turns out well in the end.

By now, you are well aware, in the Secret Life of this Seamstress, that…um… “things Sometimes go Awry.” Tragedies occur. People get confused. Wrong legs get shortened too much on trousers. Needles break; bobbins shatter; and human excrement hits, well, not just fans. All this you know. As you might suspect, we don’t always handle this with the dainty grace and full-throated songs of Disney heroines. (My inner child wishes we did!) Well, we don’t. Behind the scenes, we have been known to Growl and to Grumble and defensively say viciously hilarious things that will never be printed because we cannot afford the legal fees. To all of them, to each and every grumble, I now shout “That’s the Spirit!”

“My daughter-in-law says I have to wear pink. I HATE pink,” a lady says flatly, with a look that could curdle cream. To which I reply, “That’s the Spirit!”

A co-worker says “I just got this [expletive] zipper in this [expletive] down jacket—I had to do it three [expletive] times and now the [expletive] pulley has snapped off! Just SHOOT me now!” To which I reply, “That’s the Spirit!”

A guy whose eyes say he’s done more learning than winning wants us to cover a leather jacket with motorcycle patches from his club. We tell him to leave the jacket and return later but he refuses to go. He cannot let the jacket out of his sight. These are club regulations. He must be present with the jacket at all times. (“Does he sleep in the damn thing?” Prudence wants to know.) He takes up residence on the couch while we mutter and growl under our breaths. We have to behave nicely in front of customers but secretly, we are pissed. “That’s the Spirit!” I whisper.

My friend says, “The cleaners have sent over ten panels of curtains that are all different lengths and we’re to hem them all ‘eleven inches.’ Are we to assume that the windows all differ by a range of three quarters of an inch? Or are we to take an average and make them all the same length? Grrr… I want to call them back and say we don’t do curtains anymore.” “That’s the Spirit!” I cry.

My inner Grinch is having a very good time with this.

My inner Sinner starts thinking about things like Redemption, Readiness, and what the Spirit of Christmas is all about, if not for over-eating cookies then blaming our families? What is this colossal Hysteria we all buy into that sends us spiraling into bad emotional, spiritual, and financial hang-overs every year? I think that it is all about Happiness. Yes, friends. HAPPINESS is what causes us to lose our minds and behave like monsters this time of year.

We want so much to be able to make someone Happy—to Give each other, and all those we hold so dear, HAPPINESS. This is a Big Mistake; bless our tiny, human hearts. We try to buy it, box it, make it, wrap it, cook it, and send it so that we can inflict it on those we love best. Well, guess what? Happiness is not something we can give away. It is something we can each only Receive for ourselves. It is what Hermann Hesse called “the little joys” at the heart of a rich life lived with Presence, not presents. It is hidden in the simple delights celebrated in a Wendell Berry or Mary Oliver poem.

But try telling that to the woman in the dressing room who is angrily mashing her boobs around like they are made of soft clay she can mold into any shape. She is treating them like they are small dogs she is trying to make behave, as she muzzles them with a different bra and tries to force them into the front of a gown. They are unwilling and recalcitrant and keep trying to escape out the back door, under her armpits. She thinks that if she can make them stay out front, where they belong, she will be Happy. Right now, her happiness depends on nothing else. Her satisfaction is Conditional and, sadly, the present conditions are against her.

Too many people are coming into the shop thinking “If I was a size (x) I would be happier.” If I won the Lotto, I would be happier. A lot of us think if only we were richer, thinner, taller, or could get our hands on a Baby Yoda, we’d be happier. Well, guess what? We wouldn’t be.

According to Harvard’s landmark 75-year study of what makes a Good Life, most “numbers”—such as your cholesterol numbers or your bank account figures—don’t matter as much as the number of warm, genuinely loving hugs you get a week. They discovered that loneliness can be lethal, that secure and tender relationships are protective. People who are well-connected socially are happier, physically healthier, and live longer than those who are not. People who go to Revels or Scottish Fish concerts or Nowell Sing We Clear events are certain to find in shared songs and blended voices a Happiness that cannot be bought in a store. And though we may buy each other the tickets, we cannot control what our companions may Receive. “The moments of happiness we enjoy take us by surprise. It is not that we seize them, but that they seize us,” says Ashley Montagu. We need to be Ready to be seized. That’s the Spirit!

I’m of the current opinion (since I am still frantically knitting) that gifts, even homemade ones, are some of the Worst things we can give each other. For one thing, they ask too much of us and our recipients, since gifting is often a subtle form of Asking, or manipulating, and the temptation to be equational, or keep score, is destructive. A gift is also something that is Complete—fully formed, ready to go. Most people don’t give away something that is partially complete, that is in a growing phase, or still needs work. (Although, I did once give my brother-in-law one solitary hand-knit sock, with the promise of another, which he received later in the year as a birthday gift!) True Happiness is curated over time. Relationships, which are the secret to Happiness, are sticky and complicated things and require as much effort as a loaf of good French bread or getting all those damn lights on the tree to light up at the same time. Gifts are just quick fixes—the “once and done” approach. How much more rewarding to spend Time, rather than money—to replace screen time with people time! Drag out the playing cards and board games. Get out the photo albums and look at them by the glow of candlelight—trust me, your wrinkles will thank you. Tell your stories to the little ones; teach them your songs and traditions. Forget shopping. That’s the Spirit!

As existential credibility seems garnered on the basis of how loudly we proclaim our disadvantages, the savouring of Happiness seems countercultural—it is an act of courage and resistance to seek Delight in Little Things, especially if they are free and don’t boost our economy. So now is the time to go Rebel! Let’s get Feral in our attempts to return to organic forms of Comfort and Joy--Happiness might leap at us from the color purple, red, or green (Probably green!) or from the taste of snowflakes on our tongues; from the sounds of sheep bleating or sweet children singing slightly out of tune; or that satisfying feeling of cutting a strip of fabric with one long swooooosh of the scissors blades in a perfect line. Listen for those faint chimes the angels ring when True Love is shown. That’s the Spirit!

Lucille Ball said, “It's a helluva start, being able to recognize what makes you happy.” I stop for a coffee at a friend’s coffee bar and notice a man with a tiny patch on the sleeve of his shirt. The stitches around its edge are so careful and so tidy, done by his darling, caring wife. They would not think of discarding this shirt. Instead, they repair, reuse, recycle. The patch makes the shirt look even better than it did when it was new. I say nothing but smile and feel a tingle of joy at being a silent witness to such lovely handiwork. And just like that, I hear the Chimes. I hear them again in the local co-op when I see a grandfather loading his cart with items for the impending visit of his daughter and her family. He is glowing as he puts three jars of apple sauce and an extra box of Cheerios in his trolley. The more I look and listen, the more I am able to hear these Chimes. I am getting Ready.

Why wait for Presents when you can have Presence? Receive Now. Happiness is not getting something you don’t have; it’s realizing how much is already here. Happy people plan actions, not results. Are you Ready? Christmas isn’t “coming,” dear ones; it’s Here. This can be an awfully lonely, dark, and troubled time for some. Do something lovely with someone you love, even if it’s just You. That’s the Spirit!

With so much love and warm, spiced cider,

Yours aye,

Nancy