Nov 2020
We seek a mystical awakening
this time of year.
We seek a star to follow,
so as to find a place in the desert,
a small oasis,
someplace to be born,
reborn,
born again.
Here,
where I am,
where you are,
the Earth is warming,
the weather patterns have changed to such a degree
that December doesn’t feel right anymore.
But,
the evenings are crisp enough
that you can put on a coat
and
walk for a while;
looking at the sky,
finding a star,
following it.
Christmas is a construct
based on Pagan winter rituals,
festivals attributed to the fact
that a wintertide torpor is descending;
that we know that the spring
will lead to a period of return upon the investment
in our ability to survive the harsh season ahead.
The Christ-child is a symbol of ourselves as we wish to be,
full of hope,
a new life,
a sacrifice,
a suffering here and there
that will likely take place in either small or large ways
in the coming year.
The Three Wise Men
and their gifts
are a symbol
of the passage of time
and
the pleasantries we hope that The New Year holds for us.
What a perfect year for The Spirit of The Christmas Season.
In 2020 have we not been
as helpless as a swaddled babe?
Have we not felt far from home,
despite being locked inside?
In 2020 have we not made sacrifices of
ourselves in an effort to play our small part
in saving the world?
No?
Not really, huh?
It’s a nice thought though.
Being reborn,
being brought back
to a place in our lives
where we know how to demonstrate more kindness,
more tolerance,
more empathy than we did perhaps
in a time that wasn’t so long ago
that we cannot see it’s aftermath,
feeling residual impacts on lives,
our own
and those closest to us.
The fact of the matter is this:
“Merry Christmas”
“Happy Hanukkah”
“Joyous Kwanzaa”
do not make up for anything.
We have to demonstrate
the spirit of these salutations
on
every other of the 364 days of this,
the next, the next,
and the next
years.
Not to mention
all of the subsequent years after that.
Look,
I’m no saint.
I’ll struggle right along with the rest of you.
Yet, we have to try.
Because,
during this year of unkindness,
of selfishness,
of hatred,
of entitlement,
of judgement…
I still saw the opposite of all these,
which allowed me to see,
even moreso,
one of the finest sights I could have wanted
to see during this decline
of civilization
known
as
2020.
I saw hope.
I saw it in all of your masked faces,
I saw it in the face of the lady who
bought me a bag of gas-station popcorn.
I saw it in the face of the gentleman whos
pizza slice I paid for one afternoon.
“I got you,” I’d said.
“Really?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Is that all you're getting?” she asked.
“Yeah”
“Can we add his charges to mine?”
“Sure.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Everyone said:
“Thank you.”
Yes,
Really.
I’ve got you.
Now.
and
in
2021.
No kidding.
Together.
Let’s go.
*
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications 2020
this time of year.
We seek a star to follow,
so as to find a place in the desert,
a small oasis,
someplace to be born,
reborn,
born again.
Here,
where I am,
where you are,
the Earth is warming,
the weather patterns have changed to such a degree
that December doesn’t feel right anymore.
But,
the evenings are crisp enough
that you can put on a coat
and
walk for a while;
looking at the sky,
finding a star,
following it.
Christmas is a construct
based on Pagan winter rituals,
festivals attributed to the fact
that a wintertide torpor is descending;
that we know that the spring
will lead to a period of return upon the investment
in our ability to survive the harsh season ahead.
The Christ-child is a symbol of ourselves as we wish to be,
full of hope,
a new life,
a sacrifice,
a suffering here and there
that will likely take place in either small or large ways
in the coming year.
The Three Wise Men
and their gifts
are a symbol
of the passage of time
and
the pleasantries we hope that The New Year holds for us.
What a perfect year for The Spirit of The Christmas Season.
In 2020 have we not been
as helpless as a swaddled babe?
Have we not felt far from home,
despite being locked inside?
In 2020 have we not made sacrifices of
ourselves in an effort to play our small part
in saving the world?
No?
Not really, huh?
It’s a nice thought though.
Being reborn,
being brought back
to a place in our lives
where we know how to demonstrate more kindness,
more tolerance,
more empathy than we did perhaps
in a time that wasn’t so long ago
that we cannot see it’s aftermath,
feeling residual impacts on lives,
our own
and those closest to us.
The fact of the matter is this:
“Merry Christmas”
“Happy Hanukkah”
“Joyous Kwanzaa”
do not make up for anything.
We have to demonstrate
the spirit of these salutations
on
every other of the 364 days of this,
the next, the next,
and the next
years.
Not to mention
all of the subsequent years after that.
Look,
I’m no saint.
I’ll struggle right along with the rest of you.
Yet, we have to try.
Because,
during this year of unkindness,
of selfishness,
of hatred,
of entitlement,
of judgement…
I still saw the opposite of all these,
which allowed me to see,
even moreso,
one of the finest sights I could have wanted
to see during this decline
of civilization
known
as
2020.
I saw hope.
I saw it in all of your masked faces,
I saw it in the face of the lady who
bought me a bag of gas-station popcorn.
I saw it in the face of the gentleman whos
pizza slice I paid for one afternoon.
“I got you,” I’d said.
“Really?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Is that all you're getting?” she asked.
“Yeah”
“Can we add his charges to mine?”
“Sure.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Everyone said:
“Thank you.”
Yes,
Really.
I’ve got you.
Now.
and
in
2021.
No kidding.
Together.
Let’s go.
*
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications 2020
