Full disclosure: this post is not meant to diminish the holiday—only to gently lower the stress level that often comes with it.
When I moved to Palm Springs, California full time in 2020—the summer of Covid—I found myself settling into a new rhythm and eventually joining a small weekly gathering of what I jokingly called “the high society of Palm Springs.” I was definitely a fish from a different ocean, sitting among former politicians and hedge-fund personalities, but I never felt out of place. If anything, I felt curious.
As Thanksgiving approached that year, a simple question came to mind:
“Why does it have to be turkey? Why not duck? Or steak? Or something completely different?”
That one question led me down a path of learning. I started digging into the history of the holiday:
Who were the Indigenous people of this land?
Who was Christopher Columbus really?
How did these traditions begin?
What I learned was eye-opening. It was enlightening, and honestly, a bit humbling—humbling because I had never asked these questions before. The group nodded politely when I shared what I found, but no one seemed as eager as I was to explore the deeper story.
Through this experience, I realized something: as a society, we often follow tradition without pausing to ask why. We move through the holidays almost on autopilot, creating expectations, comparisons, and invisible categories of “have” and “have not”—even around something as simple as turkey or pumpkin pie.
We wait in long lines, rush to preorder the “perfect” dish, and then compete on social media for the prettiest table or most impressive spread. Somewhere along the way, we stopped asking ourselves how it all began—or if the pressure is even necessary.
And once those categories exist, the “have-nots” can end up feeling less-than, while the “haves” feel compelled to give. Giving back is beautiful—truly—but the idea that a holiday meal defines belonging or worth is a setup we unintentionally created. Our bodies don’t know the difference between turkey or steak, pumpkin pie or ice cream. The food is not the meaning.
Yet every year we feel the pressure: to shop, to cook, to travel, to decorate—all in the name of “gratitude.” But gratitude isn’t something that belongs to one day. Gratitude is something we live. It’s quiet, constant, and woven into every moment… or at least it can be.
And then, right after this day of “gratitude,” comes Black Friday—when the gratitude evaporates before sunrise as people line up to grab the perfect TV or computer. The contrast is striking.
So as I said from the beginning: this post isn’t meant to minimize the holiday. It’s simply a gentle reminder to slow down, breathe, and focus on what really matters. It’s not about quantity—it’s about quality. Not about one afternoon of blessings, but about honoring the blessings that exist in every single day.
Have a beautiful holiday.
Know that whatever you have is enough.
And whoever you are is more than enough.
photo credit to Taste Of Home