As I was lying in my bed awake at the hour of 5 am, thoughts rushed through my brain. I really wanted to go back to sleep. At 6:20 I looked at my watch again, feeling a bit frustrated and wondering if I should get up. Then, magically I wondered, “what will happen if I lie here and make some plans for Christmas activities I normally enjoy, but have neglected the past few years?” _ Sort of, the if-you-can’t-beat-’em-join-’em technique of dealing with a busy mind. Of course, you can guess the results. Off I went into dreamland, another hour of blissful sleep. And, I also have a few plans to bring out some decorations and renew some traditions which have been neglected or at best sporadic, the past 5-6 years.
Christmas and the holiday season always remind me of my dear Mother. How she loved the holidays. She would start planning months ahead, making those prized “Granny Snaps” by the dozens and thinking what gifts she would get for everyone. How she loved the whole celebration! Memories flood into my brain with visions of our laughing as we dipped a hot iron into batter to make piles and piles of crisp wafer cookies. We had no idea we’d have hundreds of them. I can still see us laughing as we worked-played away in my kitchen in Virginia Beach.
How I miss her! For years I have felt badly that I couldn’t embrace her exuberance during the holidays. Could that be because I was trying to embrace HER voice as my own? Finding one’s own voice or self is a lifelong challenge and that challenge permeates everything we endeavor to do or think. That is one reason that pausing, F.M. Alexander’s principle of “inhibition”, is crucial to our existence as “evolved human beings”‘ as he called us. We miss so much as we rush about. It may seem like a luxury to pause and let one’s physical self NOT DO. It is more than that; it is a necessity. Inspiration cannot come without that space.
I realize as I pause this day that I am myself and with that my own voice must be heard whether it be in my own interpretation and expression of holiday cheer or my work. I cannot be my Mother; she was her own voice. But, I can be myself; I can pause and remember what and how I do love to celebrate. Most of all I can make time for what is important and allow my own voice to be heard. Yes, in both work and in play! My Mother’s voice is one color of many colors in my voice, but my voice and your voice as well, must and can only be our own!