I wrote this essay yesterday, and originally posted it here: Ann F. M.'s LiveJournal. But I wanted to share these sentiments with my mudcat friends as well.
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It really is all about the presents.

The potlatch, or ceremonial feast where the host distributes his wealth to his guests, has been an important cultural institution among the American nations of the Pacific nortwest for millennia.

Entire epics in Irish and British have revolved around a king bestowing (or not bestowing) gifts upon his warriors and bards

The trading of small, silly gifts and sweets was a central part of the ancient Roman observation of Saturnalia.

And what would the story of the Christ Child be without the magi who brought the gold, frankincense and myrrh?
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For those of us in the northern hemisphere, now is the time of darkness. Even as far south as 36.5 degrees (roughly), and even in this era of electric lights and central heating, the days are short enough for me to think: "Damn! Sunset already?"

If the year were a single day, this would be the time just before sleep, when we lie in the darkness of our beds, contemplating the day just past -- all the things we did well, all the things we could have done better -- and wondering about the day ahead -- all our worries and our hopes rising before our minds' eyes like Charles Dickens' three ghosts of Christmas, asking us to ask ourselves how well we have done with the world. If the universe were a computer, this time would be the "reboot" of the year -- that moment between shutting down all the programs and restarting them -- checking to see which programs were deleted and which were added. If the world were an Etch-a-Sketch, this would be the time it's turned upside down and shaken, between one picture and . . . Well, you get the idea.

This is a time of delicate balance, karmically speaking. And when we're in such a delicate situation, the smallest of actions can tip the scales one way or the other. So we light the candles to call the sun back from the brink. We festoon our houses with evergreens to remind the growing things to sprout again. And we are generous with each other, to entice the world to be generous with us.

Now comes the "Theology of CapriUni in a Nutshell." It goes without saying that your theology may vary (and probably will).

I believe that, just as each heart cell helps sustain each nueron and each neuron forms a part of the consciousness I know as "me," so each of us forms a part of the consciousness of the Divine. So that when we give gifts to each other, we are giving gifts from the Divine itself.

Now, it's true. Not all that glitters is gold. And not all things that look like gifts really are. Often, what appears to be an act of giving is actually a way of brushing someone off. The first woman I hired to be my aide would routinely bring "gifts" to me of 'treats' that none of her three sons would eat, or of old ratty toys they had outgrown, even though I had not aaked for them. This was her way, I think, of making it easier to pigeonhole me in the role of perpetual child and charity case. This kind of "giving" is actually a way of cutting ourselves off, emotionally and spiritually, from those around us.

But if our hearts and minds are open, and we go through life aware that we are part of a whole that is much greater than our own egos, we do become 'condiuts' for the Divine mind of the universe, as Saint Francis of Assisi once prayed:

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.

O, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love;
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
it is in dying that we are born again to eternal life.
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This is the way of the world. Plants create energy from from sunlight, carbon dioxyde and water. They create much more energy than they themselves need to grow, so that animals may live as well. Their life is their gift. And through their gift, their seeds are dispersed; the animals that feed off them breathe out the carbon dioxyde the plants need, and they drop manure which enriches the soil. In giving, all green things receive. And so it is with us. Each act of giving is an act of self expression, whether it is an expression of generosity or of power. Each time we give, we become more ourselves, just as a blossom becomes more fragrent giving nectar to the bees.

And so, at this time of delicate cosmic balance, we ritualize the giving and set it apart, so that it can be at the center of our consciousness, and inform our intent for the coming year.

There are those who say that such acts of giving should be year 'round, and not dependant on any external trigger such as a date on the calendar. But when giving is impromptu like that, it is much more likely to be one-sided. And if: ". . . it is in giving that we receive," it must also be true that in receiving we give. If you've ever had the misfortune to have a gift tossed aside or unacknowledged, you know this to be true. When a special time is set aside for the giving of gifts, it is more likely to be a gift exchange, and the simple act of accepting an exchange can be a gift in itself.

And besides, in setting aside a time for giving, we allow for the pleasure of anticipation, the thrill of wondering what's inside the wrapping, and the heady battle within ourselves as to whether we can withstand temptation and wait until the appointed time before we tear the ribbon off. That's at least half the pleasure, for me, even if the box isn't wrapped in pretty paper or shiny ribbon.

So, if you're giving gifts at this time of year, enjoy! Have fun with the scissors and tape, and may your life ahead be filled with joyous bounty of all kinds.

Peace and love to you, too!!