Another Yearly Tradition

I recently wrote about one of my new Year traditions where I write a letter to myself and put it in one of the boxes of Christmas decorations before storing it for the year. This is one of my personal traditions that serves as an emotional marker of time. It is a form of taking the moment all the way in and reflecting. In a tradition, this moment is coupled with some ritual that becomes associated with the reflection.

Time can fly by in a blur. I have a full life with kids that are growing and developing, whether I pay attention to it or not. Time goes by for me as well, and if left unchecked, I may find the wrong things have held too much of my attention for too long.

Little personal traditions are a way to inventory. To check in on how I’m doing. How I like my progress since last year. It’s a form of personal accountability that allows me to pause and appreciate the moment I find myself in and all that is happening in my life, as well as recognize any course corrections I would like to make.

I have never put much thought into creating one of these traditions. They happen all on their own. A moment happens in which I appreciate life just as it is and find myself completely at home in the present. The experience creates an emotional connection to whatever I am doing at the time.

I take down the outside decorations and put everything away on New Year's day. This is usually done with little helpers that have gone over the years, from making everything take a lot longer and breaking quite a bit in the process to actually being quite helpful.

When all is done, I break down any leftover cardboard boxes and put them in the bed of my truck. Then a very dry, very dead, well-loved Christmas tree goes on top.

I take all this to a small recycling collection center. The center is within a local park, and right in front is a place to recycle Christmas trees. This means that they go through a wood chipper to become useful mulch. Trees taken down by the county are chipped here year-round, becoming a small mountain of wood chips from which anyone with a truck and a shovel can help themselves. So the tree goes on the Christmas tree pile, and then I deal with the cardboard.

For some reason, maybe three years ago, I hopped in my truck for this trip and put on the audiobook version of Call of the Wild. I have always loved Jack London. The imagery of the Alaskan wild appeals to me and his writing style. And there is just something about a book from a dog's perspective.

As a writer, I think I am supposed to be a physical book purist, but I am also a father and have a job that I love. I am involved in life. Sometimes it’s an audiobook or no book. And some activities pair so well with a great book read by a narrator that I like.

Throwing the year's tree on the wonderfully fragrant pile in an official farewell to the Christmas season, I could hear how Buck was king of all he surveyed on Judge Miller's property from my truck speakers. I paused to smell the particular pine smell that only comes from Frasier furs and links memories spanning my life through childhood. I felt the dry cold air of winter and had one of the moments in which I was entirely in the moment.

The following year leaving my house with a dried-out Christmas tree, I began Call of the Wild again. Now it has become a yearly tradition. I am not sure what this does for me exactly, but I have learned to listen to the voice within when it nudges me. It may remind me to reflect on what is most important and course correct if needed. It just makes me feel good. Images of listening to certain scenes in years past and what was going on at the time come to mind. I have become more aware of life. Of the present moment.

This is part of the point of these traditions for me. By reflecting on years past and setting visions for the future, I settle more into the present moment. This is what I want to do. I want to experience life. This experience happens in small temporary moments. Having little things in place that remind me to slow down and savor life is essential. Taking action that reminds me to appreciate and experience the moment helps me remain in touch.