Saturday, December 19, 2015

Mmm, humbugs

Buying into that dirty feeling before Christmas - half the things done that I need to do, half still to do, but nobody really knows which is which. Lists of lists. King of kings. Parcels of parcels.

Years ago I would wander through town on Christmas eve, wondering what to get for people, darting through crowds and imaginations. For Christmas, why not buy somebody a something? "Latest Thing" as A Thing. These days I run metaphorically frantically around online for weeks, and spend my days chasing deliveries. I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to be like this, not what the three kings intended. Forced gifts from afar, shipped in from the East. Adverts are the new Herod.

We live in an age where traditions are frequently felled. Christmas will die; It Will Eat Itself. the process will begin once a mass Facebook campaign calls to boycott the tide of mass produced presents, and the anxiety of socially-induced benevolence. (Here a Venn diagram of gift buyers and facebook  users.) (Persuading the children will be hardest. There will be casualties.)

Slowly, year by year, Christmas will become a meta-celebration, a melting pot of trying to feel good in these times of hibernation. The twin spirits of birth (Jesus) and the middle of darkness (winter) will be forgotten, surrendered to a feeling of humanity, a collective unconscious wanting to reflect, but caught up in the dismal inclarity of setting suns and self-doubt. Boycott the void to embrace the void we're not ready for. Emptiness as potential - but is it lacking, or pure pregnant potential?

Happy Christmas, every one.

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