These behaviours, many of which are likely biologically as well as culturally based, have also been offered as one possible origin of the arts. Since this time, the definition of “ethology” has expanded to include the biological study of human behaviour, and sociologists, anthropologists and related scholars have further studied with new perspective the numerous formalized patterns of behavior used throughout human communities and passed down through generations. Ritual was the only concept that seemed to fit to certain complex courtship behaviours or displays of power. When 19th century ethologists recognized animal behaviours that reminded them of stylized rituals-postures or “dances” conducted for communication or community-definition rather than instrumental ends, the connection to human behavior was unavoidable. The study of human rituals, like those associated with holiday celebrations, emerged surprisingly from the study of animal behaviors (Stephenson, 2015). There may be evolutionary motives underlying some holidays. Or perhaps these meanings are superfluous anyway, accumulated through the years to further the rituals that predate their surface meanings. Holidays are rituals that for most of us have nearly lost their original meanings. The ones with deep roots, the “holy days,” motivated by timeless myths and natural events, seem to emerge inevitably from their times of year. They are just dates on the calendar-excuses for a long weekend. Secular holidays like these are welcome, but not as natural or compelling. Others are “artificial,” designated to celebrate historic events, like national independence or other historic social events. In this case, it is the darkness and natural retreat of the northern hemisphere winter. Some holidays are ”natural,” emerging from the rhythmic flow of life. There is little time for a lack of wonder in this relentless flow. This message is repeated in not just the music, but in the tones of voices people use, in the bright and colorful lights, and in the abundant family feasts each day. Somehow, even in the deep cold of winter, with daylight occupying only a third of each 24 hours, very little green in the landscape, and a nearly constant light precipitation that alternates between rain and snow, it does feel like the most wonderful time of the year. “It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” I am told repeatedly, convincingly by a mellifluous voice. It is the day after Christmas in fact, but the festive atmosphere continues.Ĭhristmas in Amman, Jordan Photo by Patrick ParrishĬhristmas music continues in the background, the same songs heard for nearly a week in a near constant loop, only now slowly being replaced by non-holiday music. The Polish skies are a thick grey, making it difficult to say what time of day it is, only that it is a new day straining to show itself for a few hours. The mall is busy with shoppers, the café buzzing with those taking a break from shopping or meeting with friends in this convenient social place, the market. More likely to receive a helping hand or a greeting, when otherwise they are invisible.Īs I write this I am surrounded by cut and decorated trees that at any other time of year would be incongruous in this indoor space, lit in a carefree wealth of colors, decorated with dangling bulbs that reflect the light further, and by strings of false gold and silver that complete the opulence. They might also be more readily recognized as a person in the generosity of the season. But they too might absorb some of the additionally warmed air and light generated to overcome the cold and darkness. Others might huddle alone at the fringes of their social world, lacking a family, sufficient wealth or even home. It might bring focus to past losses, times that felt happier, especially linked to such occasions.
They might feel the social void in their lives even more in these periods. We buy appropriate foods, some available only this time of year, and we plan long days in our kitchens, looking forward to the culinary projects, perhaps following newly discovered recipes, but more often revisiting long-held family traditions.
We make appointments with friends and family, and if we are lucky, we even have to send regrets or prepare for serious juggling due to an overabundance of invitations. We dress in clothes reserved or newly purchased for the occasion. Not everyone is equally enthused, but everyone takes part in some way. This was supposed to be a time of rest, but we make ourselves as busy as ever-even more so, but with few complaints other than the hassle of the inevitable competition in dodging others around us doing the same. We may not even think about why we are doing what we are doing, but the accompanying feelings compel us.
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