A Christmas Alone

For the last several years, I’ve tried to persuade my husband not to buy me anything for the winter holidays. But he has fond childhood memories, and how could I deny him a decorated tree piled with presents. But I don’t want to own anymore stuff. I don’t want to dust it, pack it, move it, unpack it and figure out where to put it and then dust it again.

This year, I’m finally getting what I wanted, but it comes with a price. The house hasn’t sold yet, so I will be in Arizona for the holidays and he will be in Virginia. It doesn’t make a bit of sense to send packages back and forth, so in a grown-up, sensible way, we are not going to exchange gifts for the holidays. Or be with each other. There will be no stuff.

Having said that, going against custom is a big thing. We’ve never been apart for the holidays. But many other people are. Families who have a member in the military. People with relatives in hospitals or schools who simply can’t afford to pay the air fare. And instead of indulging, I can do things that will make others feel good.

So, another deep breath, and I’m on my way to try this new thing. I refuse to think of it as a sad day, or to feel sorry for myself. Let’s see if I can find the true meaning of the holidays. Without wrapping it in paper and putting a bow on it.

–Quinn McDonald is a writer and creativity coach. See her work at QuinnCreative.com (c) 2007, all rights reserved.

Creativity: Like Riding a Bike. . .

Note: Another in an occasional series on the link between riding a motorcycle and creativity.

Suzie Lighting is back in Virginia. The Suze is my motorcycle, named for the Warren Zevon song. There’s a line that says, “Suzie Lightning takes no prisoners. . .she lights up the sky and then she’s gone.” The first time I got on the bike, I was in heavy traffic on a new bike, driving carefully, watching out for the big SUVs that, combined with a driver on a cell phone, are deadly.

Waiting for a light to turn, I noticed the driver next to me texting on a cell phone. When the light turned, I checked the intersection and accelerated. The larger bike’s clutch caught quickly and earlier than the older one and I shot away from the cars on my left and right. By the next intersection, the bike had a name. . . Suzie Lightning.

But the Suze is back in Virginia, and I’m in Arizona. I’ll be heading back to Virginia this weekend to run some business communication classes. It will be December when I arrive, and I may not be able to ride. There are limits to what I will do to ride. Then again, at this moment, it’s 10 degrees colder here than back East.

Here’s something that’s true about riding a bike: even if you haven’t been on it for a while, by the time it warms up and I back it out of the driveway, it’ll feel comfortable.  I’ll stay in the neighborhood until I turn a few corners, and then I’ll feel comfortable.

While I’m waiting for the house to sell, I’m also without full art equipment. I bought $50 worth of supplies last week, and began to play around. And just like riding the bike, I had to stay in the familiar for a bit, and then I could take off and go new places.

Your creativity won’t desert you. The muse might go shopping, or take a nap, but your creativity won’t dry up. If you’ve been away from it for a while, you’ll let it idle and listen to the engine warm up, but you’ll feel comfortable and familiar again. In fact, after that first warm up, you might decide to go down a different road and see some new scenery.

And as you dive into your creativity, my wish for you is that you light up the sky with your own light. Take no prisoners. Warren would be proud of you.

–Quinn McDonald writes and teaches communication seminars. She rides a Honda Shadow, 750 cc, shaft drive. See her work at Quinncreative.com (c) Quinn McDonald 2007. All rights reserved.