I have spent this holiday season inundating my brain with an endless stream of romantic (and sadly, typically Hallmark, the sappiest of the sappy) movies.  They promise a certain magic surrounding this time of the year.  Snow, mistletoe, etc.  I have believed in the magic of the winter solstice for as long as I can remember, but despite my belief, spawned by a childhood vision of Santa (lol, I know),  I have never been a personal witness to its enchantments but only an outsider hoping for just a little spark.

Obviously, I have given to false expectations to hope for a holiday miracle, but this year, of all years, I was really, really hoping for one.  It never came.  Does that mean that high expectations are my problem?  I constantly read that I must give up on all expectations, or else.   Sure, expectations are a disastrous source of disappointment.  In fact, they are quite possibly, the root of all disappointment.  So, maybe I should give them up.  But, what does that mean exactly?  Give up all my hopes? All my daydreams? All of what my intuition tells me because all is uncertain, and my future is forever hidden from me? I have to wait for it to reveal itself in time?  Really? It feels impossible.

That is when I have to realize that all this “holiday magic” is a self-fulfilling prophecy.  I have to make the magic for it to exist at all.  Which, in reality, does not feel very magical at all.  It feels like work.  It feels like waiting.  I don’t like how either of those feel.  But, I must learn patience. I must learn to let go.  Maybe then I will be in tune with all this supposed abundance that awaits me upon relinquishing everything.