Life is Tradition in the Making

It’s easy to get triggered by what we think traditions ‘should be’ — especially when we compare ourselves to others, but we get to create what we want

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Change is upon us friends. I feel as if the pages of the calendar just flipped by me this year at lightspeed. Maybe you can relate? It’s hard not to use all that is transforming in the natural world here in the Catskill Mountains as a great metaphor for life and our internal experience.

Yes, this is the season of letting go. The leaves gently cascade to the ground outside my bedroom window. I feel like I’m in a snow globe. We are slowing in ways and preparing to restore — and yet, the holidays are just around the corner.

Gatherings. Wrapping paper & ribbons. Festivities. Twinkly lights. Hurry up and get on board.

I breathe it all in and ruminate about traditions. In some ways it saddens me because I do what I think many of us do — compare myself and my life to the Hallmark greeting card depictions of social media and movies. My life and holidays have never quite fit into that box.

I know. I know. But then I snap out of it. I don’t really want to live in those versions of anything. My life has never been terribly linear or conventional. I didn’t grow up with many of the traditions that a part of me yearned for...

...so I created my own and continue to do so!

As I shared with you in the last newsletter, I was headed to the beach — my post summer craze getaway to the beloved house of a dear friend; a house that has been in her family for generations. Its walls hold the memories of all who have passed through.

As I wander through it’s rooms, I hear the joy of the past — families gathered, sun-kissed faces, sandy bathing suits, game nights, meals and traditions.

This year was my 10^th anniversary spending the week after Labor Day there. And as Facebook does, it popped up a picture of True ten years ago, just a baby girl bright-eyed and ready for a beach adventure excitedly dragging a wagon of sand toys behind her — just busting a gut to get to the ocean sand and waves.

It fills my heart. Every cell in my body smiles remembering it — hearing her giggles, feeling the sand in my toes, the smell of the ocean air, the sea air curling my hair — experiencing the glorious exhale of being present and playful and silly.

This house has become sacred to me — a part of the fabric of my life. It is the place I go to reset and renew. I rest, rest, rest after a busy summer of hustle, bustle and activity. It’s like she wraps her arms around me upon arrival inviting me in, “Come my dear, I’ve been waiting for your all year. Come sit. Read. Restore. Rejuvenate,” she whispers.

My entire nervous system calms.

I excitedly unpack my car (trust me, I bring just about everything but the kitchen sink) and I wander through the house reconnecting and checking her out. Anything new? Has anything changed? Hello, old friend.

I bring candles to honor her, delicious vegan food, games to fill her with late night laughter.

Within days, she does her magic. I exhale like no other. And I breathe in her medicine.

And I look around with gratitude for this glorious tradition that I have created and kept alive — and built upon. And yes, it has morphed and changed a bit. True has grown up. I have grown. Our chosen family has grown and now we have our beautiful Mayra in the mix, and this too has become a part of her tradition — a bounty of blessings for sure.

I laugh when I think of some of the traditions we’ve let go in lieu of new ones. We’ve traded our late-night amusement park jaunts and junk food sugar crashes for early morning sunrise yoga on the beach, long strolls on the boardwalk, journaling and nurturing conversation by candlelight on the porch.

We rise in the dark from our cozy beds and bundled in layers head to the ocean still lit only by the moon awaiting a sliver of orange light to emerge upon the horizon. We take copious amounts of photos and videos just trying to capture this glorious moment as if we could bottle it up and take it home. It’s like going to church for the soul.

When you get still, your senses are enlivened. You breathe deeply. You feel deeply. You live deeply. This sweet house is surrounded by gardens of lush milkweed plants and gorgeous hydrangea bushes. The butterflies were abundant fluttering all about as if greeting us.

Connecting to this all feeds me and reminds me that no matter what is going on around us, no matter how loud, how chaotic, how disruptive or how divisive — the world is still alive and filled with beauty and wonder.

And while I am hungry to see the world and to travel far and wide, I am renewed right here in this week, with these seemingly silly traditions — connecting, connecting, connecting.

My tradition may not look like yours and vice versa, but each precious moment is an opportunity to be present and call forth more of what we want in our lives. Love. Peace. Vitality. Aliveness. Connection.

Each of those buckets are restored for me here. I can’t imagine my life without this week — and I daydream about how it will evolve in time — grandbabies, friends, new versions of myself. Aaaah.

We are creating tradition in real time, my friends — right here in this present moment. Embrace it. Breathe it in. Allow it to heal you.

And speaking of tradition and celebration...Happy Birthday to my beautiful October baby, True, who literally became the wind beneath my tradition-making wings. For the little girl who brought so much crafting, merriment and magic into our holidays — I will forever be grateful to you for awakening this in me.

"Notice that autumn is more the season of the soul than of nature."

~ Friedrich Nietzsche

—Lea Haas, Owner, The Garden Cafe Woodstock