If we could pick one time of year and cut it out, separate it from all the rest and make it the best – it would be Christmas. Sure, the season has its trappings and there’s plenty that’s nipping at its heels, but it still remains as a special time for the heart and wishful thinking.
VISIONS OF SUGARPLUMS
Aside from Rudolf’s nose, I can’t think of a single reason why Santa would want to fly at night. Don’t things go ‘bump in the night’? So why then, does Santa dispense his gifts in the dark, when we are fast asleep? It’s the element of surprise you say. But I get surprises every day. They come in the mail or crawl out from under the pile of papers on my desk. No, I think it’s more than that, and it may not have anything to do with Santa at all.
Sugarplums appear when we are least mindful of our wants. Only then, when we are “dead to the world”, do real presents steal into our lives. The things that are meant for us – we don’t have to ask for. Our asking is a part of our imperfection and confusion, and when we go begging, it’s never a gift or a blessing. But when we take the calamity of life and put it to bed, when we lay ourselves down and slip away from the world; then the true gifts come.
I think the mythical traditions of Christmas conform to this. That’s why Santa comes when we’re sleeping and our energy is gone from the day. In the morning, we remove the wrappings and make the gifts our own. The magic dissipates quickly. But for that brief time when they are still under the tree, anonymous and faceless, those gifts embody the same spirit that is in all we will ever truly receive. Then, undefined, they manage to speak to our deeper need and not just a want or desire.
One of the treasures of growing older is that, at last, we can begin to see the emptiness of boxes and wrapping paper. We understand it best when we watch the way a child tears through our handiwork. Though it may look like a disaster at the time, the annihilation is never quite complete. Deep inside, at the bottom of the shopping bag where the cards, paper and bows get stuffed; we know the real present survives. It’s in the simple act of one heart touching another.
This Christmas, I hope you are at peace with whatever may be dancing in your head. And I hope you know that, beyond all of your imaginings, there are gifts waiting for you. So now, get to bed, and please…remember to brush your teeth.
Merry Christmas to all …and to all, a good night!