Christmas, Consumerism, and the Need for Presence (Not Just Presents)
Christmas and the Distortion of Presence
Christmas is here once again. In the Western world, that means the streets are aglow with glittering lights. Some areas are graced with the sparkle of snow, while others decorate their palm trees with festive baubles. Everyday affairs are simultaneously winding down and ramping up, with people cozying up with cider and holiday demands straining businesses and households alike.
Storefronts generate a certain buzz by flaunting seasonal fares and appealing, albeit make-believe, discounts. To-do lists grow long and the waste piles in our curbside bins stack higher. Ice skaters, sleigh-riders, and light show goers pose for smiley snapshots that will prove to social media that they were there—they lived the Christmas experience.
Our ideals for the season are steeped in nostalgia. We relish in the memory of Christmases past, with the magic of family, fires in the hearth, reruns of A Charlie Brown Christmas, and trays of homemade fudge. Yet for many of us, there is a certain sense of lack; a petite, quiet tug on the tail of our shirts saying that the holidays will never feel the same as they once did.
When Abundance Replaces Intention
Nowadays, it would be far-fetched to deny that Christmas has merged with commercialization. That is, businesses’ drive for profit and consumers’ addiction to accumulating stuff are as ubiquitous as the carols charming the radio.
Hence, perhaps, the discrepancy keeping us from the experiences that once were. The nominal rewards of amusement and performance have usurped our old promises of connection.
The general agreement is that fulfillment can be tangibly measured. Our celebrations are regimented with social constructs and heightened expectations. We tend to value attendance, aesthetics, and reciprocity more than the simplicity of peace.
For some, “love” is expressed in transactions. “Care” is imposed by obligations. “Time well-spent” is the amount of money dispensed.
Basically, instead of a practice, presence has become a demonstration.
The Holiday Assembly Line
And of course, one of the biggest demonstrations is the presents.
Presents are what make holiday rituals increasingly resemble assembly lines: shop, wish, buy, repeat. Year after year, trends cycle through and certain technologies become obsolete. Wish lists are refreshed with things that won’t physically last or sustain our interest… but that’s sort of the point.
Commercialism and consumerism are joined at the hip, and their profit margins thrive on quick-ditch desires.
Major retailers both online and off are notorious for feeding into this consumerist craze. Browse through any of them and pay real attention to the shiny packages, flashy promises, and grandiose displays. How does the attraction compare to an item’s actual usefulness?
Still, this is how we end up giving presents that someone neither wants nor needs. Sometimes the sale is “just too good to pass up” or the item is “just the right color for you.” Other times we’re simply buying to match one another, so one doesn’t feel inferior for gifting less.
Without thinking more deeply about our purchases, we’re unwittingly priming the holiday assembly line.
Plastic in Presents, Detachment from Presence
Underlying the accumulation of presents, and the dystopian efficiency of the retail market, is their pervasive linkage to plastic. It’s alarming just how much of our stuff is plastic: even the softest sweaters and stuffed animals are made mostly of polyester.
Plastics—which are a diverse range of materials derived from crude oil—are cheap to produce, convenient for packing and shipping, and damagingly disposable. Their wicked effects on human, animal, and environmental health are well-documented and needn’t be re-hashed here.
Where plastics come into this conversation is how they symbolize an even deeper detachment from intentionality. All praise to plastics, mass production pumps out stuff that’s briefly used and idly discarded. We seldom stop to consider the unpleasantness of the factory labor that went into them, or that when they’re thrown away, they’re destined for the landfill, incinerators, or the ocean. (Remember that the so-called recyclability of our stuff is exaggerated.)
Cheap materials are “simple” solutions for commercial gain. But on the global scale, they present a myriad of problems that developed societies are skilled at keeping out of the public eye.
Many of us have seen the adverts with tortoises who have plastic straws jammed through their nostrils, though. We’re not completely blind to the damages of our wares; it’s just more convenient and easy to palate when we ignore them. Thus we remain heedless of our presence, fellow beings, and the planet. Entranced by the fairy lights, we’re sleepwalking through our own festivities.
To be present, after all, is not merely to be physically at a place. It’s also the awareness of what our choices touch. And when that recognition isn’t there, our sense of interconnectedness is hollowed out, untied from consequence or care.
The Economics of Intention
This isn’t to say all gift-giving is mindless. In fact, when thoughtfully aligned with the recipient and considered for sustainability, the offering of a gift is quite beautiful. The same can be said for family gatherings and holiday events: the presence of heart and awareness directly contributes to greater depth and meaning.
But thoughtfulness is not scalable, which is why it’s so frequently lost in the commercialization of Christmas. It requires time, attention, and the spaciousness to shirk desires in favor of actual needs.
Profit-bound systems, however efficient, are designed for speed and sameness. This compresses the holiday season, filling it with a sense of urgency that crowds out discernment. Care is then eclipsed by convenience not out of malice, but momentum.
The antidote? Intentionality.
Intentionality is the quiet countercurrent to our hyper-speed holidays. It’s a resolute refusal to rush, obligate, and overdo. Small, careful choices matter precisely because they can’t be scaled. Whether it’s seeking a more eco-conscious alternative, opting for secondhand, creating something unique by hand, facilitating a shared meal, giving an experience or simply one’s time, all point to deeper meaning than the chapstick that was on sale.
Imagine how much more connected we’d feel to Christmas (and indeed, each other) if love and intention were our baselines.
A More Careful Approach to Christmas
Meaningful celebration begins inwardly. Love, joy, gratitude, and inner spaciousness shape our mental landscapes and ultimately determine the energy behind our participation. We can sleepwalk or celebrate through not just the Christmas season, but also in our everyday lives.
When we choose presence over pressure, our values naturally begin to change. Fewer gifts feel sufficient because the moment-to-moment experience overrides any “need” for more. The connection to loved ones deepens, strengthened by authenticity and openness.
Experiences start to matter more than objects. Letters evoke more feeling than packages. Time triumphs over things. Though the gestures become less tangible, their impact lasts longer—perhaps even a lifetime. Thus disposability is no longer a part of the equation.
The mainstream approach might see quiet, rest, and simplicity as abstinence from the hoopla of the holidays. Yet our spaciousness is, in reality, its very substance. It’s how we allow ourselves and the season to breathe.
When approached this way, Christmas is less about accumulation and more about alignment: an outward expression of an inner state already at peace.
May each one of us know that sacredness and discover the season’s magic anew.
Happiful holidays, my dear fellow life-traveler. ⋆꙳•❅*‧