Finding 'Silent Night'

Once the sun begins to set, I usually stop painting because the lack of natural light alters the way certain colors appear on my canvas. Some weeks back, I could still paint until past six in the evening, but lately, I’ve been washing brushes as early as five in the afternoon. It’s Christmas season once more, and again, we experience less sunlight and more dark hours as the days become shorter and the nights longer. Back in 1818 when the popular carol Silent Night was first performed, the world still honored silence and valued long hours of darkness as they anticipated the birth of the light of Christmastime. Imagine being in such a setting: a night so quiet, it permits a newborn to sleep in heavenly peace. And in contrast, imagine what it’s like being in the city at this time of the year.

That’s right, it’s not the 1800s anymore. In this century, December means: parties that last until the wee hours of the morning, boom boxes blasting manic remixes of holiday songs (commonly from parties that last until the wee hours of the morning), price hikes (and phony sales where you’re given a 10-percent discount for an item that had a price hike of 20 percent), last-minute shopping (and the possibility of getting robbed) in Divisoria, kids throwing tantrums at toy stores (seriously, if you’re not planning on getting your kids new toys, please don’t bring them to a place that’s loaded with them), heavy traffic, and so on. Sadly, ‘tis the season that’s so overly jolly it can give an infant who’s tender and mild some serious trauma.

To attain and maintain silence, harmony and true radiance in the midst of deafening falalala-las, halls (and stalls in malls, and windows, and doors, and posts, and walls) decked with fake snow, plastic boughs of holly and epileptic lights is indeed the challenge of our time. So how does one go about it? Honestly, I don’t know of a highway that leads straight to that address, but I do have a little map that might help so that we may at least situate ourselves within the same zip code as “heavenly peace.”

Heavy traffic, higher crime rates and manic mall sales: ‘Tis the season that’s overly jolly; it can give an infant who’s tender and mild a serious trauma.

Keep it simple, real and meaningful. I grew up having simple Christmases. My dad would make a lantern using bamboo and Japanese paper, and my mom would fix up a modest wreath of fresh leaves. We would also put out our small belen made out of Mount Pinatubo ash, and that was it. But despite the things that seemed lacking, I never felt empty or deprived of that certain sense of fullness that the season brings. When I asked my folks why we didn’t compete with the glitzy décor of other homes, I learned that our external festivities should not overpower our celebration “within” — that is, that warm, general feeling of goodwill.

The best things in life are not things. The less clutter you have, the more you are and the more you can appreciate the little things that are essential in life. It’s interesting how carols throughout the years have gone from songs of reverence and benevolence to those of covetousness and materialism (as in Santa Baby where the singer insists that Saint Nicolas hurry down the chimney to deliver a yacht — and not only that, “a convertible too, light blue”). The focus has shifted to Christmas bonuses, shopping, shopping, shopping, pigging out (and passing out) after noche buena, and people coming to your home not to bring good tidings to you and your kin, but to ask for money. It’s not that we should all retreat and be party-poopers. In fact, Christmas is an occasion to share with people. It’s good to celebrate and be merry, but not to the point of losing touch with the true spirit of the season.

Learn to embrace the night and be comfortable with silence. In an age where WiFi and data plans keep us plugged-in 24/7, it’s a challenge to be absolutely still. It seems nighttime doesn’t exist anymore as we sleep with the TV and lights on. It’s time we learned to cherish silence again and appreciate how dark skies make the stars more visible.

Keeping it simple and real: The author’s little Christmas tree

These are little tips, but then, perhaps we may not really need a map to make our way to true Christmas. It may be that we find it the moment we realize we don’t need to go about hastily looking for it. If we listen closely, amidst all the noise of our time, there’s also that gentle sound of steady knocking on our door. Every year, the spirit of Christmas makes its way to us seeking for a place to be born, we just need to prepare a space to receive it.

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Merry Christmas, everyone! Mail me at katrinaanntan@yahoo.com or visit www.katrinaanntan.ph.