Tradition: the transmission of customs and beliefs from generation to generation. – Oxford Languages
Confession: traditions can bring out the rebel in me
Whether it was the fact that my mom was great at keeping traditions and less than great at letting any of them go or the fact that I was (ha!) in Fiddler on the Roof when I was in high school (Tradition! TRADITION!!), traditions have weighed heavily on me. So heavily, in fact, that when I’m told (usually by my youngest child) that “This is the way we do things, Madre,” I often feel rebellious.
Sometimes, I often think, my way might be better. See, for example, the amazing recipe I found for cornbread stuffing that has become a tradition of its own in the last 10 years. Often, it’s simply more fun for me to try something new. See, for example, the Christmas I decided not to hang a wreath with a red bow in every window of the house, opting instead to wrap my hydrangea tree in colored lights. (We all survived the upheaval of that change, by the way. Even my traditional youngest.)
Discovery: traditions feel fine when I’m choosing them
My cousin texted me this past Thanksgiving weekend and asked, “Are you cooking traditional?” My reply surprised me – “Yes! I love the traditions!” It surprised me enough that I actually stopped cooking to wonder what I, a tradition heretic when compared to my mom, meant.
What I meant was that I love making the yeast rolls that my dad’s mom made for him when he was growing up and that she made for me when I was growing up. What I meant was I love making (and eating) asparagus casserole, a recipe that, judging from the ingredient list and the sheer weight of cheese involved, is absolutely from the1960s and is so delicious that it has graced our family holiday tables ever since then. What I meant was it gives me great joy to make my mom’s mom’s date cookies for my dad and to know that he’ll be nibbling on them throughout the holiday season.
What I meant was, I love adding traditions that make me feel connected to family across time and generations to holiday meals that I hope will one day be as fondly remembered as the ones I remember throughout my own life. What I didn’t mean was that I loved automatically serving a particular menu simply because it’s “the way we always do it.” That kind of tradition feels stifling to me.
Being ourselves and expressing ourselves feels good
We humans, after all, are each unique. Part of the joy of life is finding our own way, exploring what we like and don’t like, learning to express ourselves in a million different ways. We need to feel a certain freedom to live like this. A freedom from the expectation (our own or other’s) that our role is simply to carry on someone else’s legacy.
Yoga may have turned me into a “tradition rebel” but it also helped me be me
I have often wondered if it wasn’t my embrace of yoga that ignited my rebellious feelings about traditions. Yoga philosophy guides us to look inward to discover the traits, talents, preferences, and even aversions that make us who we are. It encourages us to make life choices that allow our own unique light to shine brightly in the world. When we follow yoga’s teachings, we find ourselves feeling freer and more fulfilled than perhaps ever before. The best part of all is that the world around us is a better and brighter place when each of us lives as the special, irreplaceable person that we are.
Perhaps my rebellion to tradition developed as my practice began to help me understand more clearly who I am and what I like and what matters to me. Perhaps, after twenty years of steady practice (not to mention 57 and ½ years of “time on the planet”), I am clear enough in who I am and what I like and what matters to me that there is now room on my holiday table for “my way” as well as the traditions that formed me.
I hope that, by doing things “my way,” the tradition I pass on to my children will be to do it “their way”
This year, I carried my Nanny’s rolls on my husband’s great-great-grandmother’s platter to a table aglow from candlesticks my parents received as a wedding gift and doing so felt exactly right to me. It’s exciting to imagine what new ideas I’ll have for old traditions in holidays to come. Most exciting of all? I cannot wait to see how my own children creatively incorporate bits and pieces of our shared heritage into their own holiday tables. I pray that, by doing it my way, I will have given them the freedom to do it their way.
When you are grounded in svadhyaya or self-study (the ninth of yoga’s ten philosophical principles), you will find the appropriate practice, life purpose, and path that resonates with your individual spirit. YS 2.44