Like you, in my case it's also literally true. Our tree has physically forced me to move a bit, but there's compensation in an appealing aroma of balsam. Maybe it can be a
bodhi tree.
Of course it's the figurative tree that's the real problem, and it doesn't smell of balsam, does it? Also like you I spent a lot of time last week in full-metal-holiday mode, shopping, preparing, & "partying" --I use the quotes because for the most part I find parties tiring. Starting tomorrow until at least Thursday I'll be out of town with my in-laws, witnessing the intersection of their idiosyncrasies (a good word) & mine. I am grateful to have in-laws who I quite like & admire, and who don't fit the stereotypes. And yet, maintaining my regular practice will be impossible. Continuing some, any kind of meditation or yoga practice will be a challenge. There's always a significant number of people, and not a great deal of space, so slipping away for a half hour or so is difficult. My mother-in-law is a light sleeper, and if she hears me get up early will come down to investigate (unless I go into the bathroom --wouldn't be the first person to meditate there I suppose, American Standard Lotus position?) Most of each day is planned out, not unpleasantly (long family walks, meals, discussions) but relentlessly and in large numbers --everybody will participate! Quiet time alone is not well understood, and I am reluctant to draw attention to my desire for it. There's both a fear of giving offense, and of parading my, um, idiosyncrasy in front of everyone. I don't really want to discuss my practice in that setting.
Is that satya? Is it practicing right-speaking? I just don't know. There's an element of dishonesty I'm sure --I am hiding myself from full view. Something happened to me sometime over the last few years, as I went from being a nominal Christian to a practicing Buddhist, but it was mostly slow and evolutionary, and I haven't shared it deeply with many people outside my very, very immediate family (read: wife; and it took a while to do even that). In some respects I feel justified because my experience is not something I want to discuss in a superficial, cocktail-party way. It's also very likely that I'm using that thought as an excuse to avoid difficult conversations. Wanting to have the interaction happen on my terms is probably the root dishonesty in what I'm doing. So in response I will try and pay attention to that. (And my craving for wine-as-crutch, and my urge to nibble on the appetizers, and... no, probably better to focus more deeply on fewer things).
As my wise partner Doug said the other day, we shouldn't always expect this work to go smoothly and linearly. Most of the time it's two-steps forward, two-steps back, and perhaps we learn enough from those movements that the next few iterations will be a tiny bit farther forward, and a little less back. These holidays are a huge challenge for me, as obviously they are for you, Chris. Let's remember to breathe, and wish each other good luck!
Namaste, all!
Ian.