The Spirit of Christmas through the eyes of a child

Yesterday, my 10-year-old son and I were driving through the snow-laden mountains of southern New Hampshire, marveling at the winter wonderland that blankets this region from December through April. Our car rides have become a sacred space—a place where my son feels comfortable sharing his thoughts without interruption or judgment. Yesterday’s drive was no exception.

As we took in the sights, my son let out a deep sigh. Curious, I asked him, “What is that sigh saying?” He paused—longer than usual—but I waited, giving him the space to think. Finally, he confessed he wasn’t sure what to ask Santa for this year.

It wasn’t just his words but the weight behind them that told me something deeper was stirring. I simply acknowledged him, saying, “I see,” and let the silence hold space for whatever came next. After another pause, he shared what was really on his mind: he felt silly asking for anything because he knows Santa isn’t real—that Santa is an idea, not a person.

I smiled, placing my hand on his. “What makes something real?” I asked.

After a moment, he said that for something to be real, it has to be experienced. He explained that the spirit of Santa is real because it can be felt and embodied, even if Santa himself isn’t a physical being. Intrigued, I asked him how he thinks spirit “works”—how we experience something as intangible as spirit.

This sparked a long, winding conversation about the spirit of Christmas. We talked about embodying qualities like generosity, love, and gratitude, and how they illuminate the darkest days of winter. Then, we explored Krampus, the shadowy figure of Christmas lore, as a paradoxical reflection of the same spirit. My son was fascinated by the idea that Krampus isn’t purely punitive and Santa isn’t entirely judgmental. Instead, we saw them as mirrors—two sides of the same coin, reflecting back something essential about us.

We began to wonder: How do we perceive Santa or Krampus? And what does that say about how we see ourselves?

For those who view Santa as a benevolent figure, showering the world with unconditional love and generosity, perhaps they are recognizing their own capacity for those qualities. But for those who focus on the judgment of the “good or bad” list, it might reveal a fear of inadequacy, a belief in conditional worthiness. Similarly, Krampus can be seen as either a harsh enforcer of consequences or a guide through the shadow, encouraging us to face our fears and imperfections.

This naturally led my son to begin to question how these same themes apply to how people see God and how Satan feels like Krampus. He said to me that people that feel wicked inside probably see God and Santa as a someone who is always watching and judging and people who feel that life is a miracle probably see god as something inside of us, with unconditional love and mercy. My face lit up brighter than the best Christmas tree. I was beyond excited at his personal reflection and continue to be surprised and delighted with my wonderful children and how they self reflect.

As we neared home, I told my son that each year, I choose to embody the spirit of Santa Claus—fully and unconditionally. I explained that when I embrace that spirit, it guides me through the dark days with love and joy, inspiring me to give from the heart. Surrendering to that spirit means I’m not deciding what to give from a place of ego; I’m letting the energy of love and generosity flow through me.

He thought about this for a moment before grinning and asking, “So, does that mean you eat the cookies or does Dad?” :) I am grateful to have such a wonderful child.

Looking back on our conversation, I realized how much this mirrored the teachings of yoga and tantra. In tantra, we learn that the world around us is a reflection of the world within us. How we perceive something—whether it’s Santa, Krampus, or the spirit of Christmas—often reveals how we see ourselves. This is the essence of svadhyaya, or self-study, one of the core practices of yoga.

If we view Santa as a benevolent, unconditional giver, perhaps we are recognizing our own inner light, our ability to give without expectation. If we focus on Santa as a punisher, perhaps we are grappling with our own inner critic or fear of not being enough. But when we see these figures not as separate entities but as parts of the same whole, we step into the wisdom of non-duality: the understanding that light and shadow coexist within us and that both are essential.

This practice of seeing and embracing both sides is a journey toward individuation—allowing the ego to mature so it can fully acknowledge and integrate the shadow without being consumed by it. It’s through this integration that we can embody the true spirit of Christmas: a spirit that gives generously, loves unconditionally, and embraces all parts of ourselves.

As we light the candle in the darkness, celebrate the twinkling snow, or share moments of joy, we are living our yoga—not as a practice confined to the mat, but as a way of being. This Christmas, may we all choose to embody the spirit of love and giving, and in doing so, come to know ourselves more deeply.