Faith, Trust, Pixie Dust
A few days ago, a friend posted a 'Secret Sister' gift exchange on Facebook. Buy one gift, get many more in return. Spend $10 on someone you probably don't know, get surprise gifts from the friends of others.
Simple enough. Easy enough. Fun enough. We've had Christmas marketing waiting desperately in the wings for the Halloween candy to stale (it's been on shelves since July 4th) and why not do something impromptu, unscripted and unexpected. The holidays are stressful enough - expectations are high, pressures start to boil like a kettle with a broken whistle.
I don't share chain mail. I don't fall for the don't scroll past without liking, sharing, commenting guilt trip. I have enough guilt in my life - I'm not holding yours.
I didn't even think about it. I said yes. I would LOVE to buy a gift for someone I don't know. Pick something out, something fun, something I might buy for myself. Send it along and expect NOTHING in return. Anything after I hit order on my computer screen was gravy.
I shared it on my wall after editing the standard script to be my words, my hopes and my expectations of others. Do it. Don't do it. It's all good to me.
Some people jumped in. Some jumped in and then declined. It was all lovely and wonderful exchanges between people who, like me, just want to see something bright in the world.
Today I see a whole bunch of bullshit about Secret Sister ponzi schemes and legal mumbo jumbo and piss and vinegar. Somebody, somewhere got screwed. Everything has an end and somebody didn't get theirs. I get it. Sort of.
I refuse to subscribe to it. I choose to believe that the $20 I spent to send a perfect stranger a gift will go to someone who doesn't know me, who doesn't owe me. I choose to inhale the holiday spirit so deeply, my fucking toes curl. I choose to -- let it go.
Sometimes, you need to suspend logic. You need to NOT believe everything you think. You need to toss your pixie dust in the air, twirl around and say "Fuck it. I believe."