I've been thinking, as you have, a lot about gifts this past week. As the holidays approach, our gift-giving lists lengthen and we're all running around, accumulating stuff to give to people who already have piles of it -- at home, on their office desks and scattered in the back seats of their cars.
As I shop around, I try to find those things that will make my family and friends happy. I scan racks of sweaters and scarves and hats and mittens, the latter of which really has no place here in San Francisco.
But happiness does not live on the shelves of Macy's (though they do a convincing job of making you think so), or even on the artfully arranged crevices of my neighborhood boutique.
For a long time I submitted to the fun of gift-giving and thought about nothing more than the loot I would stuff into my already over-flowing dresser drawers and bathroom cabinets (so popular are lotions and potions for girls).
But now, as a woman aimed at living with greater intention and a heightened consciousness, I'm worried. When did we start measuring love with stuff?
I know several people (and am related to some of them) that calculate my care and affection for them by the number of glittery gifts I give (decorated with bows and bags of gelt) and how fancy the labels are on their new bounty.
And for many, the holidays are a chance to finally show a year's worth of repressed love -- in the shape of fluffy slippers, cookie tins and the season's fanciest electronics. Gifts are an excuse, an apology, a mark of affection -- endless boxes and bags filled with stuff meant to convey love. The postman becomes a carrier of symbolism and metaphor.
But stuff is stuff is stuff. It's not love, and it's not happiness. It breaks, expires and ends up full of dust on your counter or in the landfill. It doesn't mean anything to you, not really. And it certainly doesn't suggest that your dear Aunt Sue loves you more than she did yesterday, before she gave you that Prada purse (but thank you, dear Aunt Sue).
I've resolved to give gifts of love this year, along with some traditional fits-in-a-box-with-a-bow tokens -- because it's hard, as you can imagine, to entirely escape the traditional stuff-is-love equation when everyone's so saturated in its holiday glow.
But I plan to do my best to shower real love and affection on my loved ones. I'm going to give my mom some extra help with her lip-smacking latkes, tell my dad how much I appreciate him, hug my sister and brother extra tight, and remind my husband how great he is. I'll be thoughtful, sensitive and considerate. I'll smile. I'll take my shoes off at the door if that's what the host wants. I'll entertain the kids, and laugh at that not-so-funny joke. Because I love these people--and that's how you give love.