Festive: Season

But perhaps that is the point. The festive season is not about pretending the darkness isn’t there. It is about lighting a candle in the middle of it. We cling to rituals because they give us a script when we have no words. The lighting of the menorah. The burning of the Yule log. The frantic, last-minute wrapping of a gift for a neighbour you barely know.

The festive season magnifies everything. If you are happy, you become euphoric. If you are lonely, you become desolate. If you are grieving, the carols cut like glass. festive season

In the northern hemisphere, it is the scent of cinnamon and clove battling the smell of wet wool coats. In the south, it is the sound of corks popping from bottles of crisp Sauvignon Blanc under a setting summer sun. Whether you celebrate Diwali, Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, or simply the joy of a long weekend, the festive season is a universal paradox: it is the most exhausting and the most euphoric four weeks of the calendar. What makes this season magical is not the decorations, but the permission it grants us. For eleven months of the year, we are pragmatic creatures. We budget. We diet. We say “I’m too busy.” But perhaps that is the point