Trees of Light

I have three Xmas trees decorated and finished in my hew home. (They're artificial trees, nice but nothing special in themselves.) The big one in the music studio (the second bedroom converted to this purpose) is covered with musically-themed ornaments, which is a tradition in my family. My mother was a full-time musician, and my physician father was a dedicated amateur, so we have given each other musically-themed gifts for many years. This tree also bears a few special ornaments that are my favorite, my most beautiful ornaments.

There are two smaller trees, one on the glassed-in porch, and one on the table in the master bedroom. The small tree on the porch is themed for Mom and Dad, as a memorial tree. It bears ornaments that make me think of them, including turtles, loons, a squirrel, a Michigan ornament, and others that they had given each other over the years. It’s their tree. The third tree, in my bedroom, is all shiny reflective ornaments, like mirror-covered shapes, balls, and other things that cast light. In the afternoon sunlight, sparks of light fall all over the walls and carpet in this room. This tree also carries some of my personal ornaments, specifically given to me over the years by my family.



A solstice tree is about light. You hang the round reflective ball ornaments on the inner branches, so they reflect more light outwards, and also reflect the images of the ornaments and lights. They brighten up the whole tree with spherical mirrors. The outer branch tips is where I like to put the showpiece ornaments.

It’s snowed heavily as I decorated, setting the mood, the flakes big and heavy and falling almost vertically. Snow blows in heavy waves off the roof, making veils in front of the window.



I find myself feeling heavy with emotion most days this winter. It’s partly the holidays, the memories associated with them, and with decorating a tree. It's partly that it's my first holiday season alone; I often feel cut off, disconnected from the celebrations surrounding me. I do have friends, but many of them live far away from here, as does my remaining family. I have been invited to some family friends' celebrations, but I've turned down most of them, feeling like a fifth wheel; everybody has their own lives to enjoy together, and they ought to appreciate them all the more. I'm too close to knowing how fragile and ephemeral it all is. They need to spend the full force of their time together, without a relative stranger being there to also be entertained.



Part of me thinks decorating a tree or two for the holidays is stupid, as no one will ever come here to see them; and if you aren’t making them to share, then why bother? But then I realize this is part of my ritual of remembrance for this year; and I do it for myself, and for my absent parents. Furthermore, winter solstice trees are Trees of Life and Light. The Tannenbaum is much older as a tradition than Xmas, and is about the Light Returning as the Yearwheel turns; we come back to the light after plunging into the dark, and the Year turns round again. The further North one lives, of course, the darker and colder it gets at winter solstice. I live in the Northern Midwest, that part of the center of the United States that could be defined as being within a day’s drive of Canada. I am native to this region, despite my early years in India. The Midwest remains the heartland, and my own Heartland. I will always return here, as it’s the only home part of me recognizes as enduring, although I have had many other short term homes across the globe. My body feels like it’s at home, here, even though my soul likes to rove and wander and travel, and return.

Yet who do I have to share these beautiful trees with? Most of my closest friends don’t live nearby, and none of my family is left here. And they have their own celebrations to attend to. I have been feeling very alone, isolated, cut off, abandoned, even alienated. Everyone around me has their relationships, their families, their whirls of fellowship and friends. I have nothing of that left to me. I have a few friends here, it’s true, and they’re good friends; but my own closest friends pass through only briefly, or do not ever visit.

So I am probably overdoing the decorating this first winter solstice completely alone; I am probably trying too hard to remind myself of the light and joy of this time of year, to keep the darkness at bay. But I am doing it for myself, if for no one else: because I need these reminders, because I need to feel like the winter won’t swallow me; because I need to feel less alone and alienated, less separated from everything I have ever loved, and everyone. This ritual of remembrance is for we, the living. Just connecting is a struggle, and takes all my energy. Anything beyond that is something welcome but unexpected.



I plan to leave these trees up and decorated till after my birthday, which comes less than a month after Xmas, in mid-january. I always felt short-changed by that, when so many of my friends had summer birthdays. (On the other hand, winter's child is who I am, in so many ways.) My parents often left their Xmas trees up till my birthday, which was kind and thoughtful of them. They knew how much I liked trees filled with light, and they liked being able to add something to my birthday celebrations, to make up for its close proximity to Xmas.