An Nollaig...An t-am is fearr den mbliain, sin é a deirtear ar aon chuma

Má bhím ana-mhacánta ar fad, an mothúchán is mó go mbraithim agus mé ag cuimhneamh ar an Nollaig, ná strus. Ní hamháin orm féin - ach bíonn strus san aer timpeall orm. Caithfidh an tig bheith feistithe i gceart, an dinnéar a bheith nótáltha agus ná tosnaigh liom ar bhronntainisí.

Agus mé i mo sheasamh le déanaí i siopa seodóra, ag piocadh rud amach dom dheirféar, d’fhiafraíos díom féin, ‘cad a dh’imigh ar fhear simplí, tuaithe go bhfuil sé seasta anso ag tarrac ribí gruaige amach as a chloigeann ag deinimh amach - cén tseoid ab dheise ar bhráisléad agus cén cóta a raghadh deas le súile a mhaim?’

Is deas gan dabht léiriú do dhaoine go bhfuil siad tábhachtach duit ach cuireadh i gcuimhne dom an rann a chum Piaras Feirtéar agus é i bhfolach in uaimh i gCorca Dhuibhne ag teitheadh ós na Sasanaigh:

Ó a Dhia atá thuas, nach trua leat mise mar atáim?

Im chaonaí uaigneach anso nach mór go bhfeicim an lá.

An braon atá thuas in uachtar na leice go hard,

Ag titim im chluais agus fuaim na toinne lem’ sháil.

Beagáinín drámatúil, seans. Ní hé go gcuirfeadh sé as dom mhuintir agus drochrogha déanta – ná b’shin é an chúis gur ann d’admhálacha? Ach ba dheas linn gach aon rud a bheith i gceart, foirfe fiú. Thána abhaile ó mo sciuird siopadóireachta chuig an seisiún comhairleoireachta saor in aisce: Nain.

Carraig i mo shaol is ea mo sheanmháthair. Tá ceithre mbliana déag le cois an ceithre scór slánaithe aici agus níor mhair sí na blianta san gan rud nó dhó a fhoghlaim. Dúirt sí liom agus iadsan óg go bhfaighfidís b’fhéidir oráiste don Nollaig, rud mór a bheadh i mbabóg. (Ní raibh ceardlann Saintí chomh forbartha an uair sin).

Ach fós bhíodh scéalta, spraoi agus sonas acu. Mheabhraigh sí dom, mar a dhéanann, le mo chuid fuirse ‘s an fuadar uilig, go raibh rud ana-thábhachtach ligthe i ndearúd agam – go bhfuil an t-ádh dearg liom na daoine a bheith i mo shaol le bheith sa tóir ar bhronntanaisí dóibh.

D’imíos ó thig Nain le tuiscint níos fearr ar bhrí na Nollag.

Is deas na soilse, na féiríní, na hamhráin ‘holly jolly’ gan deireadh fiú ach croí na féile is ea na daoine. Má bhraitheann tú féin mar a mbeadh an Feirtéarach i ngaiste ann an Nollaig seo, fág ar leataobh an t-ábharachas, brú na foirfeachta agus caith beagáinín ama le do mhuintir, comharsana nó cairde. Níl againn ach a chéile – agus is mór an ní é sin le ceiliúradh.

I’m a man who is strongly of the opinion that talk of Christmas comes around far too early. It’s not that I’m a grinch – I do like Christmas… kind of. But in fairness, we haven’t the back of Halloween seen before Michael Bublé is belting out Have a Holly Jolly Christmas on every radio in every shop, with Santy and Rudolph in every window. However, in the second week of December, I reckon it’s acceptable to discuss Christmas.

If I’m to be very honest altogether, the main feeling that comes to mind when I think of Christmas, is stress. Not just on myself – but I can can feel it in the air around me. The house has to be spick and span, the dinner perfect, and don’t even start me on the presents.

Only the other day I was standing in a jewellers, picking something out for my sister, and I had to ask myself: “What has come over a simple, country man at all that he’s standing here pulling his hair out trying to figure out which charm would look the nicest on a bracelet and which coat would go with his mother’s eyes?”

It’s lovely, of course, to show people that they matter to you but in that moment a verse came to mind that Piaras Feirtéar composed while hiding in a cave in west Kerry, fleeing the English:

O God above, have you

pity on me at all?

Alone and desolate here, holding on to

see the light of day.

The drop that hangs on the high

flagstone,

Falling in my ear, with the sound of the

waves at my heel.

A bit dramatic, perhaps. It’s not like a poor gift choice would bother my family – sure isn’t that what receipts are for?

But we’d like everything to be just right, perfect even. I landed home from my shopping expedition and went straight to the free counselling session: Nain.

My grandmother is a rock in my life. She’s 94, (fourteen and four scores you’d say as Gaelainn) and you don’t live that long without learning a thing or two. She said when they were young, they might have gotten an orange for Christmas, a doll would be a big deal – Santa’s workshop wasn’t quite as well stocked back then. But still, they had stories, songs and craic.

She reminded me, as she does, that with all my fuss, I’d forgotten something very important – how lucky I am to have people in my life to be looking for presents for.

I left Nain’s house with a clearer sense of what Christmas is all about. The lights, the gifts, even the endless holly-jolly songs are nice but, at the heart of it all, is the people. If you yourself feel a bit caught up like Feirtéar this Christmas, leave the materialism and the pressure for perfection to one side, and give a bitín of time to your family, neighbours or friends.

All we have is each other – and that’s something worth celebrating.