TheBakersfieldCalifornian.com

The inspiration for a Thanksgiving column came from my co-workers, who, at the beginning of November, started playing Christmas music on our office CD player. This is obviously the national trend: Ornaments and house decorations started appearing in stores at about the same time, and my daughter's retail workplace had put on its Christmas face even before Halloween.

I am usually a docile co-worker, but in early November, when the voices of angels and odes to Bethlehem filled the workspace, I had to protest that Christmas carols have no business on the pre-Thanksgiving calendar. To counter the Christmas music, I turned to the wonder of iTunes to assemble a gratitude CD to bring to work. I lined up songs that either say thank you in the lyrics or express appreciation for the wonderful life we have all been given. From Wayne Newton's "Danke Schoen" to Joni Mitchell's "The Circle Game," my co-workers have politely endured my idea of thankfulness in song.

As national holidays go, Thanksgiving gets no respect. It gets trampled in the rush to get to the extravaganza we call Christmas. But Thanksgiving is supposed to be a unique celebration unto itself, not a steppingstone to the expansively titled "holiday season." Thanksgiving, properly celebrated, is the pause button on life, reminding us to set aside a moment -- a mere moment -- to thank our benevolent creator for our existence and other marvelous gifts.

But even that moment is threatened with extinction, because we Americans are not good at living in the moment. We are always rushing forward to the next best thing, a trait perhaps evident in our national personality as early as the pioneering days of Manifest Destiny. Rather than anointing the phrase "In God We Trust" as our national motto, we should consider "Get On with It!" as an apt philosophy for the way we operate.

The commercialization of Christmas is overwhelming. Christmas marketing forces attention on itself well before Thanksgiving, and now Black Friday, the official kick-off for Christmas specials and deals, chomps at the lone day of Thanksgiving itself. Increasingly, retail workers must tear themselves from the communal table and the warmth of the family bosom to report to work, so that stores can open for Christmas business at midnight, or at 2 a.m., or some other ludicrous time to shop.

So I am proposing that we form a movement, borrow a phrase much in the news, and Occupy Thanksgiving. Rather than a public square in which to pitch a tent, Thanksgiving is an idea, an abstract place in which to camp in one's mind and heart. When we occupy Thanksgiving, we give ourselves over to the sweetness of conscious gratitude. We leave aside what could have been and what should be ahead, and simply bask in appreciation of the miraculous life that is.

The word "occupy" lends itself to lovely nuance. It is a verb, an action word, of which we can be the subject or the direct object. To occupy a place is to take up its space with our physical being. We occupy an area with the intention of making our presence known, of staying awhile. When something occupies us, we allow it to command our mental or emotional attention. We surrender ourselves to its presence, to the space it takes up, as it lingers within us. On the other hand, if we are preoccupied, we are not fully present in the moment. To occupy Thanksgiving, then, is to attain a certain serenity, a state of mind that may elude us on many other, unremarkable days.

Today's newspaper will likely be stuffed with ads that lure us to spend money, to buy happiness, to commodify the spirit of Christmas. Amidst the glossy printed shouts of low, low prices and special extended shopping hours, it is our task to carve out a small space to allow the deep quiet of thanksgiving to occupy us. All too soon, Black Friday will encroach on Thanksgiving's satiation, and begin the frenzy of the shopping season. In the wee hours, when the stores open, I plan to stay in bed and digest my Thanksgiving feast, and in the morning, sleep really late, in gratitude for one day of human hibernation.

May we savor a beautiful Thanksgiving Day and appreciate what the spiritual writer Joan Chittister calls "the glorious cornucopia of life called God." May we enjoy the abundance, express the love, treasure the brief moment of togetherness, and truly occupy Thanksgiving.

These are the opinions of Valerie Schultz, not necessarily those of The Californian. Email her at vschultz@bakersfield.com.