The One Tradition That Finally Made the Holidays Magical

The Weird Relationship of Wanting, Having, and Remembering

Photo by Nathan Lemon on Unsplash

I want you to try something.

Close your eyes and think of something you want.

How do you feel?

Anticipation? Longing? Desire?

It really causes us to feel, doesn’t it? The idea of getting something we want has juice to it. It might inspire or motivate us. It creates energy.

Now think of something you already have. As I look around my house, I see many things that at one point I deeply desired. Things I saved for, planned for, dreamed about. Now I have them, and while I might appreciate them, that initial spark, that “juice,” isn’t quite there anymore. Even my kids—at one point something I desperately wanted, dreamed of, and hoped for—don’t come with the daily thrill of a desire fulfilled. (Though to be fair, parenting teenagers probably neutralizes a lot of that juice.)

There’s actually a reason for this. Our brains are wired for wanting. Neuroscientists have shown that the act of wanting something triggers a release of dopamine, the chemical associated with motivation and pleasure. But here’s the kicker: once we get what we want, that dopamine hit fades. It’s a survival mechanism, really. If we stayed as thrilled with what we had as we were when we wanted it, we’d lose the drive to seek out new opportunities, solve problems, and, let’s face it, go after the next shiny thing.

Photo by Olena Bohovyk on Unsplash

Even as a child, I remember the letdown of this truth. Christmas morning held all the promise in the world—weeks of build-up, commercials selling impossible joy, the tantalizing mystery of wrapped gifts under the tree. But the big moment of opening presents never quite matched the fantasy. Sure, there was excitement, but it faded fast. And if you’re wondering, no, I wasn’t spoiled—far from it. My kids can’t even fathom the idea that new underwear was once considered a legitimate gift. (I’ve been tempted to try it one year just for the laugh I’d get watching their faces.)

Looking back, I think the disappointment came from a common human struggle: the hope that something outside of us—a gift, a thing, a moment—could magically fix what felt off on the inside. Advertisers love to exploit this idea. But the truth is, if we don’t already feel joy, contentment, or satisfaction within ourselves and our lives, no external thing is ever going to fill that gap.

Sure, a lot of gurus (of which I am most definitely not one) recommend a gratitude practice—writing in a journal, focusing on what we already have. I’m curious, does that really work for anyone? Personally, I think our brains are hardwired to take what we have for granted, and I’m not sure we can trick ourselves out of that.

But I did stumble on something that works for me, especially this time of year when the magic of the holidays can so easily slip into the grind of to-do lists and unmet expectations. A few years ago, I went to one of those paint-your-own-pottery places and made a canister. Throughout the year, me and the kids (okay, mostly me these days) write down cool moments on little slips of paper—things that made us laugh, achievements, surprises, anything that felt special in the moment. Then, at the end of the year, we sit down and take turns pulling them out and reading them.

Every year, I’m amazed at how much I’d forgotten. Small joys, tiny victories, unexpected moments of connection—they’re all there, waiting to be remembered. And as we read them, it’s like reliving the happiness all over again. Sometimes a slip reminds me of something we acquired, but more often, it’s about an experience, a shared moment, or a feeling.

What I’ve learned is that while “having” can lose its spark and “wanting” can lead to a never-ending cycle of chasing more, remembering allows us to savor. It turns fleeting moments into something lasting.

This little ritual has become my favorite tradition—not because it’s about being grateful in the abstract, but because it’s about reconnecting with the richness of life as it actually happened. It reminds me that joy isn’t in the having or even the wanting; it’s in the noticing. And sometimes, the best way to notice is to look back, not with longing, but with love.

So, this year, as the holiday frenzy ramps up and the cycle of wanting and having plays on repeat, maybe it’s worth making a little room for remembering. Who knows? You might just find that the magic you’re chasing has been with you all along.

Wishing all of you, my readers, a lovely holiday season whatever you celebrate.