Turning Toward What Is True
I went to the grocery store last night and it was super intense. Everywhere I looked there were displays of candy, cookies, and small gifts. It was overwhelming, and I became aware of how the fear of missing out permeates this season, touching far more than just me. The pressure was palpable—the unspoken demand to have everything be perfect: to find just the right gift, bake all the cookies, decorate the house, have the perfect sweater—or the perfect ugly sweater—all within a very short window of time.
And yet, this is also such a sacred time of year. We are approaching the longest night, a natural threshold that has been honored by humans for centuries. There is something ancient and meaningful here, something meant to be slow, reflective, and connective. It has taken me several years to develop a healthier relationship with the holidays, and it hasn’t come easily.
A couple of years ago, I chose not to participate in gift-giving at all. What I discovered surprised me. I actually like the generosity of gift-giving. What didn’t work for me was the rush, the obligation, and the unconscious consumption. I realized that if I gave myself enough time and space to think, I could find a small, thoughtful gift that truly felt good to give—something aligned with my values rather than driven by pressure.
What helped me most was questioning the traditions themselves. Asking what genuinely feels nourishing, and what doesn’t. Examining why we do what we do. This kind of reflection takes time and critical thinking, and it’s easy to skip when everything around us is loud, urgent, and demanding. It’s incredibly easy to get swept away by impossibly high standards.
The excessive accumulation of goods is one of the world’s largest issues, and during the holiday season, this excess seems to peak. I believe it’s also when humanity experiences some of its greatest stress and pain—because, deep down, we know it isn’t right. Buying cheap things we don’t need, just to avoid looking like we’re failing at the Christmas game, takes a toll on the human spirit and on the planet. Christmas has become so grandiose that its effects can feel devastating rather than nourishing. It can be exhausting to try to keep up.
And still—there is something very special and very healthy about the holidays. Gathering with friends and family. Sharing meals. Connecting. Honoring traditions that bring warmth and meaning rather than depletion. These are the parts worth protecting.
’Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free,
’Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
’Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gained,
To bow and to bend we shan’t be ashamed,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come ’round right.
Perhaps the invitation of this season is not to do more, buy more, or become more—but to come down where we ought to be. To choose simplicity with courage. To remember that the truest gifts are presence, connection, and integrity. And to let that be enough.
Wishing you a holiday season that honors your values, your energy, and your heart.
Love, Cammie