Holidaze
This time of year is full of mixed emotions for me. On the one hand, I really enjoy the promise of the holidays. On the other hand, I really hate the reality of the holidays. Religious nonsense and hyperconsumerism aside, there is a certain spirit that surrounds this time of year. A sizable chunk of our world stops for a week or so, and everyone returns home. The scale of the event is mind-blowing. In any event, we all return home under the assumption that we'll be greeted warmly by those who remained behind, and we'll forget about reality for a bit, and enjoy each other's company and eat and drink and exchange a few gifts.
But of course, it never measures up to that ideal. Every family has rifts within it, ideological, economic, religious, or other divisions that create tension. These differences may be aside, but only very briefly. Inevitably, the fantasy that structures our reality (in the Lacanian sense of the term, which isn't to imply that reality is a dream or some such nonsense) creeps back in and the idyllic reunion passes as old wounds are opened and old patterns recur once more. The gifts cease to be innocent expressions of love: they become bound up in the symbolic exchanges demanded of the resumed struggle between perceptions. They are either peace offerings or Faustian bargins. The distant parent purchases a big ticket item in the hopes of gaining the attention of a child they realize they know about nothing about. The prodigal child agonizes over gifts for their parents in the hopes of finding one which humbly suggests that the ideas or forces which separated them can be overlooked and the childhood relationships with them restored. Others hide crossed fingers behind their backs, demanding tribute in return for lavish trinkets. Holidays inevitably (re)turn into a battle of symbolic authorities.
And so if I'm a little less than ethusiastic about returning home today, that's why.
I wonder, though, if one day things will be different. How will things be when I really do feel like I have love in my life? There is something which passes for love now, but with each passing year the love of my family seems bound up in symbolic struggles. I suppose, to some extent, that all families are like that. And even if I were "in love," I'd still have to contend these problems. But at least then, I guess, it would seem like I have more at stake in the game than I do now.
But of course, it never measures up to that ideal. Every family has rifts within it, ideological, economic, religious, or other divisions that create tension. These differences may be aside, but only very briefly. Inevitably, the fantasy that structures our reality (in the Lacanian sense of the term, which isn't to imply that reality is a dream or some such nonsense) creeps back in and the idyllic reunion passes as old wounds are opened and old patterns recur once more. The gifts cease to be innocent expressions of love: they become bound up in the symbolic exchanges demanded of the resumed struggle between perceptions. They are either peace offerings or Faustian bargins. The distant parent purchases a big ticket item in the hopes of gaining the attention of a child they realize they know about nothing about. The prodigal child agonizes over gifts for their parents in the hopes of finding one which humbly suggests that the ideas or forces which separated them can be overlooked and the childhood relationships with them restored. Others hide crossed fingers behind their backs, demanding tribute in return for lavish trinkets. Holidays inevitably (re)turn into a battle of symbolic authorities.
And so if I'm a little less than ethusiastic about returning home today, that's why.
I wonder, though, if one day things will be different. How will things be when I really do feel like I have love in my life? There is something which passes for love now, but with each passing year the love of my family seems bound up in symbolic struggles. I suppose, to some extent, that all families are like that. And even if I were "in love," I'd still have to contend these problems. But at least then, I guess, it would seem like I have more at stake in the game than I do now.