What Can We Do Without?

At the beginning of January, they gather by the trash bins, waiting to be taken to a composting facility or an incinerator. Christmas trees. It takes about thirteen years for them to grow from a seed on a plantation, only to be burned to ashes after just a few days of lavish celebrations. Is this tradition sustainable in a time of climate change? And what other customs could we let go of?

Original text was published in Czech magazine Psychologie Dnes 2/25. Translation by AI

Christmas trees are just one example of traditions that make us reflect on what we might be able to do without. The upcoming Lenten season brings another similar challenge. This year, Ash Wednesday falls as late as March 5th, but the forty-day fast leading up to Easter remains unchanged. Every year, I ask myself how to use this time for personal growth. I’m not Catholic, so I don’t follow the so-called strict fast from meat, but I still see Lent as an interesting experiment in willpower and the ability to abstain from something—even when I could easily indulge.

An Inner Struggle

Since giving up meat isn’t difficult for me (I generally prefer a vegetarian diet) and I hardly drink alcohol, I try to find other areas where I can practice restraint. Sugar, social media, unnecessary relationship quarrels—these are far greater temptations.

Every year, I hesitate for a long time before choosing my Lenten challenge, and I become acutely aware of my desire to avoid it altogether. I rationalize why I shouldn’t commit to fasting (COVID was an excellent excuse!), why I should shorten it, or I set exceptions (just one cookie a day, and cake on Sundays!). At the same time, I feel a pang of conscience when I think of some of my clients or acquaintances who struggle with real addictions. It’s easy to feel morally superior to an alcoholic when I’ve never even had a beer because I simply don’t like the taste. But denying myself even a single piece of chocolate? That’s incredibly difficult. After all, “it’s no big deal,” and we all need magnesium, don’t we?

Adapting Traditions to the Reality of Our Time

Yet, addiction isn’t limited to conventionally “addictive” substances. Traveling south during scorching forty-degree summers—because summer means going to the seaside. Trips to artificially snowed-in ski resorts—because a winter vacation must involve skiing. Buying overpriced gifts—because Christmas means exchanging presents. Fireworks that pollute the air—because New Year’s Eve wouldn’t be the same without them. And the list goes on…

Clinging to traditions regardless of what’s happening around us seems… odd. Stepping off the well-trodden path of generations and doing something differently requires determination and the willingness to let go, to give something up—even if just symbolically. That’s why I try to consciously choose a path that includes at least a touch of asceticism and moves away from “traditional” consumerism. But in the spirit of Ash Wednesday, I also acknowledge my own shortcomings—it doesn’t always work out. Over time, I try to forgive myself for these failures and make amends where I can.

The Christmas tree is a relatively young tradition, yet it feels deeply ingrained. Perhaps we should start asking ourselves what new traditions will emerge if we decide to change our ways. Will future generations, dressed in their holiday best, visit places where forests once stood and plant new trees instead? I don’t like the thought that this might be necessary, but maybe new traditions will be born from such meaningful actions—and one day, they’ll feel just as natural as the ones we practice today.

I hope we give up the tradition of mass-growing and cutting down trees before our forests disappear. And I hope that future generations will forgive us for not changing some of our customs sooner.