(This is a guest post from Paul Merrill, part of the If Only in My Dreams: Big Question Series.)

Christmas means different things to different people. After 22 years of marriage, Heather and I are finally understanding how much our families influenced how we enjoy holidays.

• How many presents are under the tree?
• Do you open presents on Christmas morning or Christmas Eve?
• How many lights go up on the house?
• Which way do you have your kids celebrate the holiday?

So, what was that great Christmas memory?

One of my best childhood memories is riding in the back seat of our 1967 VW Beetle on a cold Christmas Eve. The weak heater forced us to huddle close to stay warm. (That model doesn’t even have a fan to force the engine’s heat into the cabin!) My brother Bill and I shared the secret of what present we got each other. I can remember the cold, but, the memory doesn’t stretch far enough to remind me what that present was.

My brother, Bill, and I still are great friends. Though we live 900 miles apart, we still share presents, though not whispered in the back seat of an ancient Beetle. And our presents look a little different.

This year, share some aspect of Christmas with someone you love.

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I need a vacation.
Let’s all insert here for a minute the list of blessings I have.

• Nice house
• Good family
• Everything I need and want (food, clothing, shelter)
• Friends
• Education
• Human Rights
• Time to meditate and do yoga
• Lots of good books, and a library card too.
• Many more

OK, even in the face of all these blessings, I know there comes a time when the mind and body need to get away.

Out of the normal, out of the routine, outside of life-par-normale. For longer than a couple of hours or a day.

For a VACATION.

Colin and I love to travel. We both agree we are most happy with he in the driver’s seat, me in the passenger’s seat, the iPod filled with music lists and podcasts, the van filled to the brim with chattering — or snoozy — ones, and the destination programed in the GPS. It’s the kind of time that lets us simulatneously switch off and tune in.

I can feel the physical changes in my body and my mind when we set off for “vacation.” Even if there’s traffic, arguments, or bad diners, the entire experience feels different.

I mean, not to sound idiotically obvious, but it feels, well, separate. Switched off, and tuned in.

But, we can’t take vacations right now.

Airfares disagree with our budget and our schedules seem to continually argue with any meaningful drive time.

So how do we teleport ourselves to Vacationland — to that place where we can all just chill for awhile — without leaving home? It seems to be a mystery I cannot solve.

I’m open to suggestions.

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Eating means making
Mess to small
People
And to some of them
Sticky marshmallow
Becoming
Hand spider web
Is the reason.

Day 7, A River of Stones

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This is a guest post from Paul Merrill.

Saturday.

For those of us who work Monday through Friday, Saturday is a precious day. It’s the only day we can knock a few things off that everlasting to-do list.

So a few weeks ago, my son asked me to spend a Saturday with him at the Buffalo Bill Longboard Race. I thought of that to-do list. And then I said yes to my son.

We had a great time. I promise that both of us will remember that Saturday far longer than we would have remembered what we may have accomplished instead.

My dad did the same thing for me, several times. We loaded up the old VW van and headed off for college. The four-hour journey gave us plenty of time to share stories and even get a little deeper than normal life would have allowed. We stopped at an old oil derrick that I climbed. (What an awesome view!)

And I treasure that memory.

Think of ways you can make a longer-lasting choice. And do it.

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Ahhh. Today was one of those most perfect days.

I was so happy because my zen-wonderful brother-in-law/sister-in-law and their kids were visiting. They have such a nice way of arriving with their own unplanned, unhurried, not-worried manner. They are — or seem to be — just quite happy to hang out at our house and chill.

I mean, we do try to ensure their kids don’t get to over-stimulated by the small ones around here — but I find when this isthmus of my family visits, I have no active desire to plan anything too much in advance.

Yeah, we do end up doing things. Like once we all went to the beach. Another time, the big kids went to NYC for a day. Another time it was a big dinner out. But the majority of the time is just hang out, wander the house, do what you feel like doing, but don’t feel in any rush to get any of it done right at the moment.

I love this feeling. Mostly I attribute this zen-flow to my earth-mother-goddess sister-in-law Karen, who shimmies her way through life without even seeming to unsettle her core.

Or maybe it’s my brother-in-law, who travels through life at a slightly more revved up speed than Colin, but does so at a long-distance pace. He and Colin share that wonderful sort of vision of  life — swallowing the day in corn cob increments while being completely able to assess the impact of multiple linear factors on the final outcome.

All this is my way of saying — Ahhhh. What a great day. Less of plans and routine, more of family, and breathing and warm rain showers… makes my poet heart happy.

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I told Colin last night that if I ever, actually, cracked, the cause would be: STUFF.

People — namely me and the those concerned with me — spend a ridiculous amount of time fussing over THINGS. I’ll define the limitations of what I am referring to herewith:

Stuff: Anything not attached to your naked body, or to the naked bodies of those you love and care for.

A list of stuff that is particularly bothersome to me right now would include (but is not limited to):

• socks
• hair ties
• papers from school
• tweets
• “devices”
• electrical cords
• swimsuits
• snack food
• church buildings
• car seats
• pull-ups
• facial cleansers
• winter clothes
• black sweaters
• cat claws
• car rental agencies
• Boston
• PPTs
• Mother’s Day and our Anniversary on the same day
• ticks
• plastic everything
• princess accoutrements
• Power Point
• medical forms
• “Cars” Accoutrements
• light bulbs (incandescent and CFL!)
• candy
• pop-up camper
• donation forms (online and paper)

The other day, as I was TRYING to write an email explanation to my co-walkers for the CROP Hunger Walk how they could set up their online donation page when I realized something.

All this hassle surrounding trying to RAISE money for the less fortunate — including receipts, matching gifts, packing a backpack for the walk, registration forms, carpools, thank you notes, canned food to be brought on the day of the walk, and on and on — made me wish, for a moment, that I was a hungry third-world farmer who didn’t have to check my voicemail/email/text messages/Facebook/donation page every 30 seconds for the next fruitless, meaningless, useless waste of my time.

And I was the one ASKING people for money.

Sigh.

What the hell are we doing, drowning ourselves in such material misery?

It’s all such work, just clearing an empty spot off on the counter! Then a moment later, it’s covered again by a pile of “art projects” that was fun at the time, but now what do we do with all these paintings?

Sigh.

Sigh.

I have no answer, only more organizing to do. Guess I better go out and buy more “Snapware” to put it all in.

Egads.

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Maine waters, very good for meditation

This picture reminded me instantly of our summer vacation in Maine and of floating on my back, gazing at the blue sky and hearing only the sound of my own breath.

But then, it also reminded me of this new feeling I own… a tight grip on my heart that comes from the constant stress of responsibility.

After those few moments of perfect me time on the cool lake, I came back to reality, and regained my senses.

After all, there is no real “me” time anymore. Even if I steal away while Colin is with the kids, they are always leaning against my heart, poking me, asking me questions, asking more of me than I’m at first willing to offer– more than I believe I am capable of offering.

And this, I am happy to say, is a mutual feeling.

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Make the day pause,
A top all done now the spinning:
But not yet toppled.

If (for just one day)
I am the morning sun,
Then
You are the luscious hills
I peek over;
The refracting air dew
–In winter, air’s mirror–
And that single ecstatic
Songbird rambling
Her grocery list.

And if,
At noontime,
I’m busy shrinking
Dingy winter piles
(Just this once),
Then,
You’re the relieved oak branches
Sighing,
Or epic icicles smirking at my
So-called heat.
You are
The tires and the grit
Scratching roadside harmony
To keep me company.

Then, when I see it’s time
(One day only)
To stretch the shadows long,
Then you become the
Winged beauty of your dreams:
Hummingbird, pheasant, or pterosaur

And we’ll light out
Together,
Horizon advancing on
Our command,
Into our dreams and
Any ordinary day.

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#Reverb Day 6 Prompt: Make: What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it?  (Thanks, Gretchen Rubin)

I made cookies (seen pictured), 500 or so of them for a church fundraiser. Well, actually I just rolled and cut and baked them, and shopped for the ingredients. So I didn’t make ALL of them, start to finish. I had help:

1. Anna made the dough from my great-grandmother’s recipe.

2. Linda made the icing, many shades.

3. Jeff and Diane set up the tables.

4. Stephanie spooned the nonpareils into her mouth.

5. Pat made the Stars of David.

6. Ellen made the striped mittens.

7. Becca made the sprinkle mountain.

8. MANY other friends iced and frosted and decorated, oh my.

Which leads me to a more pressing bell that has been ringing in my head recently:

Doesn’t it really take a village? Why are we always waving flags and singing songs for independence, when activities seem to come to conclusion more pleasantly with help and company?

Case in point: #Reverb10. Yes, I do blog anyway. Sure, I am capable of weaving my own thoughts and posting them at regular intervals.

But isn’t gathering like (and sometimes unlike) minds to convene on a concept so much more valuable? When we think in tandem, our ideas multiply exponentially.

So the “village” isn’t a place to agree or to rub each others’ metaphorical egos. The village is a place of our own making, where we feel safe to share our scariest and most magical selves. It’s where we live– cry, hide, and grow.

And, for me, the best part about the village is that it is filled with people who help me FINISH THINGS!

You can #reverb10, too! It’s not too late! Find out more & join in this creative exercise here.

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“Forever is composed of nows.”  ~Emily Dickinson

Denial has saved me this 2010. Denial is my word for 2010.

Let’s be clear. I use denial for good. I use it to protect myself and some important people from thinking too much: thinking about pain, thinking about loss, thinking about the possibility of an empty or broken future.

2010 has been a year of treading water in my personal life. You can ask me questions, but I will usually only be able to answer you with a “fill-in-the-blank.”

Denial has allowed me to be at peace in uncertainty. To ride the waves of day-to-day without being swallowed by the stress of imagined scenarios.

Jack Cheng makes an excellent case for good denial. The point he makes — that “good denial doesn’t know well enough to realize what the obstacles are…” — is the reason Colin and I made many of the big life choices that we have made.

Maybe you could also call it optimistic naivete? But I wouldn’t say  I was naive about these choices. We did our research and listened to the experts.

I think it was more that in order to be visionary, you have to have a certain kind of tunnel vision. You have to see the extraordinary opportunities attached to risks, without focusing on the possibilities of dire consequences.

Maybe that is faith? Or a bit of madness?

For me, though, it plays out in daily life as a kind of simple sweet denial. I refute the negative connotations of the word and simple lay back against the relief it has given me.

For 2011, I choose the word awakening. The year to shake off of our dreams and show them the world is waiting for them.

This post is part of a daily writing project called #reverb10. Find out more & join in this creative exercise here.

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