Mindful gift-giving isn’t virtue signalling – it shows real love

I’m not entirely sure when the magic of Christmas finally dissipated for me, vanishing like so much smoke up a snow-capped chimney. It might have been the moment I returned home from Christmas Eve at the pub with my partner a few years ago to find his present to me, unwrapped except for the clear plastic packaging it had been delivered in earlier that week, on the dining room table for all (read: me) to see. How magical. That may have been the final nail in my particular Christmas coffin.

Since then, it’s been hard to recapture the excitement that comes with not knowing what might await you under the tree on Christmas morning. I vividly remember the childhood delight I had from eyeing up parcels. I’d give each one a surreptitious shake to try to work out what lay within the festive wrapping. That anticipation, the not knowing, was a gift in its own right and far better than the transactional present-giving that comes with becoming an adult. (Father Christmas never asked me, via WhatsApp, what I wanted at the same time as sharing a link to what he hoped to get from me; all priced within our agreed budget, of course.)

Still, these days it’s a bit gauche to say that Christmas is all about the presents. We’re meant to say, rather virtuously, that it’s about quality time spent with family, eating good food together, cheerfully squabbling over the remote control and convincing the grandparents to join in the annual games of charades. The stomach-churning environmental costs of festive overconsumption are very real, too. Over 100,000 tonnes of plastic packaging is thrown away each Christmas which makes it even harder and much less fashionable to admit that presents are really rather nice actually. (But, well… they are!)

How does one square this circle? How to give and receive in an environmentally friendly, non-transactional way?

Well, this year, in an attempt to recapture the festive magic, my partner and I are trying something different: mindful gift-giving. We will be using the Four Gift Rule for our two sons and each other and buying just four presents: something they want, something they need, something to wear, and something to read.

Already, the benefits of our more mindful, more considered approach are making themselves known. We’re just four days into December and my partner has made a list on his phone of potential presents for each of my categories. This is the same man who, last year, dashed out of the house on Christmas Eve and returned with a series of panic-bought gifts, including a tiny teddy bear statuette which, he claimed the following morning, had been chosen for me by my toddler. He tells me he enjoys the structure the new rule gives him, saying it removes the choice paralysis which he usually finds so anxiety-inducing. In the case of our sons, the rule is really for us: the temptation to shower them with gifts is more overwhelming than I ever imagined. I hope this maxim will rein us in. We will see.

I’ve also applied this rule to my nephew for his first Christmas by taking time to choose him a book I’ve loved reading to my own sons (Giraffes Can’t Dance by Giles Andreae), a waffle-textured romper for next summer, a shape-sorting toy for playtime and a useful snack pot to take out and about now he’s weaning.

I should say, too, that mindful gifting comes in many shapes and sizes. It could simply be sourcing your gifts second hand – if using services such as Vinted be sure to factor in slightly erratic delivery times – making presents yourself (fudge is surprisingly easy to knock up and always goes down a treat) or giving a homemade token tailored to an individual’s specific needs. One of the best gifts I’ve ever received was from my mother-in-law, offering overnight childcare on a date of my choice. Any gift that involves a modicum of thought and can’t be bought within two clicks on Amazon is probably mindful.

The reason I love it, though, is that mindful gifting doesn’t dismiss present-giving as unimportant, which can often be the rather lazy stance of those who think Christmas has been consumed by consumption. Giving is a fundamental part of Christmas and not something to be squeamish or snobbish about. Presents aren’t trivial, silly, or the preserve of spoiled children. They are a way of communication, of showing love, humour and appreciation. What could be more mindful than that?