THE ENERGY OF CHRISTMAS 2012

I am coming from central Mexico to visit my son in Orlando. I have an overnight in a hotel in Laredo Texas and while in the lobby I notice a 5 foot Xmas tree decorated in red and white sparkly balls  next to a coke machine almost as large. Coke and Christmas are two things that seem very foreign to me now. I see the surrealistic icons next to each other and I wonder whatever happened to the energy of Christmas for me. I feel absolutely nothing for it. It didn't just happen. As far back as 2006 it began fading. And each year that energy has become more distant, more meaningless. I was never into commercial Christmas even when my son was young. I loved the idea of having an excuse to flow my creativity into finding or making just the "right" gift for family and friends. It would begin very early in the year. When my friends would mention anything with gifting potential I would write it down. I felt this attentiveness to details was part of the gift, signaling to the receiver that I really put thought and attention toward them .And I hoped that it would convey to them how much I cared about them. To me that was the energy of Christmas. If I did not know them well but wanted to gift something to them I would buy or make something that I loved and would love to receive.
One childhood gift for my son that brought me incredible joy was a large collection of clothespin dolls. He always liked to play with miniature men in different scenarios so I bought a package of 25 clothespins with stands that were intended for clothespin doll use. Then I asked anyone who came to our house, to draw a face and create an outfit from special little tidbits of cloth and leather I had collected. My East Indian friend created a dark skinned beauty with silky black hair she cut from her own. She outfitted her in a lovely Sari and then created a mate for her to represent her husband.Our Tibetan monk friend, Lama Nagwang , created a monk in red and gold robes with a brocade hat.There was a teenager in a fringed leather jacket, a farmer couple  in bib overalls, a plump grandmother, a wiseman with a beard and a crystal staff, a Native American shaman woman, and a primitive couple in animal skins. Although my son appreciated the love and creativity of them, he never actually played with them. They graced out home for many years as art objects with fond memories of all who made them. After my son had grown and was away, I created themed packages to send him and we would talk on the phone on Christmas Eve as he opened them. These usually centered around humor. These were the Christmases I loved. But for many years now that creative flow has ceased for me. I noticed it fade away into nothingness with no sense of judgement or sadness. I just knew it felt like OLD energy . So yesterday, as they say. And for me it was just done, done, done.
Now the tree with the shiny red and white balls and big fake packages underneath next to the Coke machine seems like icons from another era past , somewhere between the rotary dial phone and the cassette tape player.