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The Strange
Things get a bit weird about this time of the year- Christmassy. Talk about the veil being thin at Halloween, this is when it gets even thinner! It's a time when we give up the pretense that life is all about going to work and making money and buying houses and stuff like that and lapse uneasily into quite a different frame of mind.
Gods, angels, elves, talking animals, an unusual star.
We wrote our Christmas cards last night. It's a spiritual exercise. You sit down and review your life in terms of the people in it. I don't know about you, but my list contains a number of very odd folk- not odd in themselves but odd in the sense that my relationship with them has never been more than glancing or tangential- the relatives of a former in-law for example. It includes people I don't like and leaves out people I care about very much.
My attitude to Christmas changes from year to year. There have been years when I revelled in it- when it was my job to revel in it- and years when I angrily ignored it to the extent of getting out the ironing board. This year I'm feeling quite mellow- and happy to let it be.
Here it comes then, curling like smoke from a thurifer, crawling like bells, advancing like choristers. Here comes the strange.
Gods, angels, elves, talking animals, an unusual star.
We wrote our Christmas cards last night. It's a spiritual exercise. You sit down and review your life in terms of the people in it. I don't know about you, but my list contains a number of very odd folk- not odd in themselves but odd in the sense that my relationship with them has never been more than glancing or tangential- the relatives of a former in-law for example. It includes people I don't like and leaves out people I care about very much.
My attitude to Christmas changes from year to year. There have been years when I revelled in it- when it was my job to revel in it- and years when I angrily ignored it to the extent of getting out the ironing board. This year I'm feeling quite mellow- and happy to let it be.
Here it comes then, curling like smoke from a thurifer, crawling like bells, advancing like choristers. Here comes the strange.
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It's not just the strange, it's the light triumphing over the dark, of course... and the misrule and excess and the gluttony and drunkenness, and the worst of human behaviour.
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It's about the worst and the best. Either way it transports us out of the mundane.
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The day after Christmas is hard--even Christmas afternoon, when one sees tinsely trees tossed into gutters--because the strange has evaporated.
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