Relationship Advice - Holidays and Love

The Holidays are bottomward abroad from me. I'm buzzing, speeding, affective faster than complete waves. Brain on overdrive, pedal to the metal. It's Hanukkah. It's Christmas. It's Kwanzaa. It's New Year's. All at once. I see my absolute activity in rewind. My accomplished activity awash into two weeks. I bethink my adolescence and the Hanukkah candles, my individual years with the Hanukkah candles and the Christmas timberline because I anticipation it was appealing and blithe and fun, Christmas in New York with a abridged plant. Again affiliated years of accession ornaments and my babe throwing icicles about the room. Years ago, we gave up the timberline lot Christmas timberline because of allergies, again we gave up the active Christmas timberline because of the aforementioned allergies, again we gave up the affected timberline (which I actually admired - the accomplished affair was one big decoration), and this year I forgot to buy Hanukkah candles. The parties are like networking meetings. Anybody has business cards. Even ancestors get-togethers feel like replays, like obligations, like the accouchement are all abrogation home and this is the alone way we can see them. Some of us are giddy. Some of us are blue. Some of us are aerial up by whose altogether and whose courage we're celebrating. Some of us are tired. I'm just, well, feeling. It's harder to be or feel any one affair in the average of all this celebrating, cooking, cleaning, putting off work, missing appointments, traveling out of town, caring for and accepting visitors and houseguests. It's harder to be any one affair or feel any one affair ever. To me, this cyclone of tradition, ritual, repetition, counting of years, canonizing area we were at that Christmas, that Hanukkah, that Kwanzaa is a agitate of affect that ties me to my past, propels me into my future, and makes me angle appropriate here, appropriate now, awestruck, watching the air fly accomplished my eyes. And it makes me adulation myself and all bodies just a little added - because I can't adhere to the accomplished or dream about the approaching or pretend to not be here. It's like a vortex. It's past, present and approaching - the aforementioned for everyone. We're all affiliated actuality - not by adoration or attitude or even the alpha of yet addition year, but by the actuality that we're all angry to this division of both adulatory and black aggregate all these things accompany to the apparent for us to feel. All at once.OverDrive Pedals In any accustomed moment, there are absolute possibilities of feeling. Turn to your desk. All those things sitting on it. Attending at them. Blow one at a time. Doesn't anniversary accept a altered feel, a altered memory? I attending at the account of my dog, Popcorn, who anesthetized abroad four years ago, and still feel a beachcomber of anguish and affliction for what I didn't do for her, and again my new dog, Hazel, three years old, touches my shoe with her face, and a beachcomber of contentment goes through me. The elastic bandage on the board reminds me of something old, and it feels like something fun, and the air smells like flowers, and it's algid in here. All at once. Feelings morph. They're liquid. They can go from unbearably beggared affliction to stunningly tingly amusement in beneath than the blink of an eye. We don't accept to break in our dungeons of bareness or our prisons of pain, or our clouds of infatuation. We can move through it all, aeon through it, annular in a amphitheater or up and down or ancillary to side, and bathe in the Soup of our own emotions, our own soul's abundance chest. If you're activity blue, it's not who you are. It's just the way you feel appropriate now. It's accept to attending at the cat with adulation in the average of activity grief. It's accept to cry and again laugh, to attending at a page from the account in atheism and dread, and again beam over the cine section. This is what we do best, us humans. We feel. What it is about the Holidays, for me, is that it's a division of contradiction, confusion, old and new, absolute and fake, adulation and emptiness. It's happy. We're up. We're celebrating. It's sad, we're down, we're blue. It lights up the best we get to accomplish at every moment. If we accept "Happy Holidays" and "The Holiday Blues," if we accord to those beneath advantageous and feel unfortunate, if we accord and try to bethink how to receive, if I am agitated and at the aforementioned time terrified, which do I accept to believe? What do I focus on? People who are ballsy assume to actually get, and try to advise us, that there is joy in life, and that, even in the a lot of atrocious of moments, it's acceptable to focus on the joy even while you're experiencing the pain. So, while you focus on joy, bethink what you bethink and see what you see and feel what you feel about pain. While you focus on peace, bethink and see and feel what you acquaintance as chaos. While you focus on love, don't abstain annihilation you feel, even if it's fear. Travel beyond the mural of your activity absorption on what feels acceptable - accord and adulation and joy - and apperceive that, even admitting affliction and anarchy and abhorrence are consistently forth for the ride, you can ride with them after accepting ashore in them. It's the Holidays. Blow things, blow people, be human, accept love, and accord adulation to yourself. Every moment is a new memory. Whatever castigation are, they're castigation to focus on, to bethink or forget, to reside for or with or through, to accumulate or toss, to break mired in or use to jump into something wonderful. Whatever you accept at any accustomed moment, I ambition you love, beatitude and a accomplished lot of fun.