AGAINST THE FLOW

She takes the carefully selected cashmere sweater from my grasp and stuffs it in the bag.

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There was a day in my not-so-distant past that parcels were elegantly folded into the softest pastel tissue and nested in a box.

This valuing—not only of thing,
but of names set upon the page that conjure such love that no purchase could ever match—
this is what I long for, what justifies a mortified response. Yet, instead of becoming overtly exasperated, taking out on this young girl the disappointment in having encountered the carelessness of youth, I inhale the deepest breath and take the sweater back into my outstretched hands…

“Here, let me show you how honoring the time and money invested should look.”

Aware that a line is forming behind me, I ask for a sheet or two of tissue and then, laying my mama’s gift flat upon the counter, I gently envelope it like a fragile infant, folding left and folding right.

There are no words needed to make the point, although it’s not a “point” that I am trying to make. This is a lesson born of a lifetime of believing that the experience matters, maybe even more than thing.

As I write, I wonder if that young girl remembers our encounter of cashmere sweater and tissue, and if it left an impression, a little one or even one at all.

I should like to think as I go about my day, that this agenda I carry with me—this list of “things to do” —will take its proper priority beneath another mental list that I make:

Remember to breathe, extend patience, smile and engage.

Here is the most essential mandate: I am called to go against the flow:
To live my life as softest parchment, folding every encounter gently, precisely, carefully, between one grace-giving moment and the next.

What is precious, in the end, is the gift of awareness, calling myself into attention before allowing the tyranny of everything to seep into my day. “Who do I want to be?” I must literally ask myself.

There is no assumption that I will bring my best self into the moment. To assume would be such grave mistake. I must will it, intend it, speak into it.

No agenda is worth the price of being distant and detached, even possibly rude.

This young girl who grabs the cashmere sweater and stuffs it in a bag,
she will learn real value when first she discovers the worth of the person behind the thing. That lesson begins with allowing her to witness the best version of me.

NOTES:

I was a little girl growing up with a daddy who was a Neiman Marcus’ VP.
This is the lens that colors every encounter this time of year.

I remember most the children’s department at Christmas—to get there we would board a special elevator lined in red velvet. To leave, we would perch atop a satin cushion and ride a giant slide all the way down.

If reading this fills you with wonder, imagine how those who created the experience felt.

Isn’t it true that what we bring to any situation is far more spiritually and emotionally filling than what we take?!

I think the most magical store of our day is Anthropologie, their display department a Masterclass in harnessing the collaboration of head and hand to bring extraordinary imagined worlds to life.

We may not all be gifted to this profound degree. But I believe most of us can tie a simple [lovely] bow.

Isn’t it remarkable to imagine the difference we make when we go against the flow—
~By extending a little patience in the midst of chaos, or even better, not participating in the chaos at all.
~Instead of running to the nearest big box store, go out into a field or forest and fill a lovely little box of nature’s gifts that speak to you.
~Or, perhaps, write a poem that details the best traits of a loved one from your point of view.

Each year since 1926, Neiman Marcus has published what was originally called the Christmas Book…but starting in 1959 [the year I was born], the store took gift-giving to a new level*, featuring [amongst more tangible treasures] bucket list experiences for those who have more than a little discretionary cash—

In 1963, the year my daddy was VP of the NM catalogue division, the featured stocking stuffer was a genuine submarine, with a price tag of only $18,700.

This year’s over-the-top fantasy gift [with a price tag of $90,000] treats you and three friends to an art immersion of creating fine porcelain in Florence, Italy.

Some of us may be outraged at such excess.
But it’s the extravagence of the imagination that I want you to see—
When we give with genuine enthusiasm,
When we embody the originality of the person in the gift we choose.
Whe we imagine what would bring true joy and delight,
When we visualize what that might be from a child-like point of view.


This is the true extravagance, the willingness to step out and away from the crowds. Like a baby in a manger, in the more obscure and unexpected, the real treasure is found.

ABOUT THE IMAGE: As a Jeep lover and owner, this inside back cover of the 1959 Neiman Marcus Christmas Book speaks to me. Published the year I was born, the scene is titled, “Beach Party a la N-M.” The charming pink Jeep was $1800.

 

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CAUSE FOR CELEBRATION

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MY DRUNK WORDS