With Christmas on the horizon, and Thanksgiving just behind us, the retail pace has been hectic. Consumerism is at an all-time high. Many of us scurry around, either in stores or online, despite the crowds, inclement weather, low gas tanks, or an already-full plate of items to accomplish in search of presents, trinkets, and ridiculous stocking stuffers to brighten someone else’s existence at Christmas.  I’m not sure whether we do this as a ritual, or whether there is a sincere impetus in us that makes us feel more giving, or even more grateful at this time of the year.  Whatever the motivation, one thing we can all agree on is that we’re on overload.

Despite increased access and availability of material wealth, many of us remain largely unsatisfied. We spend recklessly, and are outlandish in our giving and sometimes in our expectations, despite the knowledge of the onset of the inevitable feelings of emptiness that will dwell within us once the novelty of that new item or purchasing moment wears off. Moreover, we attempt to trump the previous year, by giving or seeking newer, more technology-enabled and dependent substitutes. In turn, we make obsolete those things that were once “good enough”, and wonder why we aren’t ever satisfied. Simulated gaming technologies, “as seen on TV” products, and printed screens have almost made things like a handmade afghan, handwritten letter, or a relished paperback laughable.  The media landscape certainly doesn’t make it easier for us to go within, and extract our most authentic gifts for sharing.

It seems that we have gotten dumb in a sense.  The media predators have succeeded at their game of owning our minds. And as long as they can have our hands, then they can have our time. As a result, we’ll spend less time initiating our own thoughts, telling our own stories, writing our own books, or developing our own opinions or responses to anything worthy of any merit.  We certainly won’t invent our own designs of what happiness or success looks like. We’ve become handcuffed. Scarier even, we’ve become desensitized and more apathetic about the true matters of the heart.  We brush them off in a nonchalant way the same way we might ward off a panhandler asking for spare change while we anxiously wait for the light to turn green.   We knowingly dismiss that inner voice that calls us to “greater” – that place where we can truly become free.  Though we hear the voice within, we ignore it to tend to more trivial matters that don’t require a whole lot of thought or investment.

Once the events of the holiday season have come to a close, we’ll be left asking, “what now?”  The merchandise that we couldn’t afford before Christmas will be significantly discounted, and we’ll feel foolish that we rushed to purchase it in the first place, at a price that we thought was reasonable initially. ”All items must go!”  Yes, all items must go, because there was more inventory than there were idiots willing to pay full price just a few weeks ago!  Now what? After the battery for that new toy runs out, after we’ve grown bored of playing the latest gadget that we just received, after we’ve visited every place that we can conceive, after we’ve gotten that “final” pair of boots that we wanted this year. “What now?” Stock up on discounted Christmas merchandise for the following year? The joke is on us. Meanwhile, that same panhandler still begs, food pantries in several households become depleted, and folks that do work hard every day still struggle with the decision whether to purchase medicine for a sick child or feed their families.  Children continue to be abused by unsuspecting family members, and accosted by child predators. Politicians continue to drag their feet on urgent issues that can bring relief to many a sufferer, and churchgoers continue to be lulled to sleep by conniving preachers and sinister characters all about. The thrill is gone. The novelty has worn off. No more shine. No more things to buy…until Easter. So we think.

Well, I’ve learned that the hunger that aches the soul for a new item, for fanfare, for recognition comes from deep within…from a hollow place, from a place that has been bombarded with messages, with promises to “cure-all”, and eliminate the need to address the true self.  That hunger motivates our very actions, and we continue to feed the need, rather than feeding ourselves, and allowing ourselves to find our own authentic gifts, our own joy, our own radiance, our own “bling”.  We ignore the need to treat ourselves with the gift of time. If someone gifted us with a new diamond, we would carefully inspect it - over and over again, if you’re anything like me - for flaws, authenticity, radiance, size, magnitude; however, we don’t treasure ourselves this way, nor do we afford ourselves with this quiet or thoughtful introspection.  Were we to do this, and in the process find our own joy, we’d learn that that authenticity would never wear off, as long as we take care of it. More importantly, we’d learn that the thrill of that journey would be far more fulfilling than the novelty of any material possession, event, or cause celebre.  Now that is a gift worth giving!

\”Diamonds on the Inside\” by Ben Harper