Christmas

Okay, I feel like I should say something about that poem, because it is a bit cathartic and I'm worried it might be offloading onto you all with a depressed Christmas feel. And I don't believe Christmas is about depressing people (hence my dislike of the Mad World song, and anyone who voted it in for a Christmas number one).  What happened to the happy Christmas tunes? We are living in the postmodern Christmas.

Maybe we have forgotten that we do not have to be sad in order to be genuine. But it's hard to write about what Christmas is 'truly' about without coming over all soppy.

I guess what I am trying to say is that Christmas will never be the same for me now. There is a lost innocence (even now), and a wholeness that I miss. But I have to remember that this 'wholeness', if I choose to perceive it like that, will only degrade further and further the older I get. Looking at Christmas like this perfect thing which is made imperfect by missing presents or missing people is utterly wrong, even if it can feel like that. Christmas is as flawed as the next bastardised celebration that comes our way to leave us unfulfilled and wanting more...and yet, for some reason, we pin our hopes on our Christmases, even more than we do on our birthdays or Valentines Days.

For a few days at the end of each year, we indulge ourselves in the communal belief that things are okay, that we are all essentially good people, and that things will turn out alright in the end. There is hope at Christmas, hope that the world might survive all our stupid mistakes and that somehow we might achieve redemption. This belief is like snow, covering the grime and grit for a short while before the slush sets in and all we're left with is a bitter wind and a bitter taste in our mouths.


Hope will not sustain this world. Spurts of optimism or idealism will not improve it in the long term. Hope is not enough, it is not durable enough to withstand the onslaught of reality. Hope can only ever be a start, a painkiller to ease us into something more. But what the name of that thing is, I don't know. It just feels like moving. Even when there is no hope, you can go forward. If you cannot give a man hope, then you can at least give him something to do, and it is a great kindness to do so.

So, perhaps I shall DO something this Christmas. Sing at the local folks home. Help sort the clothes at the local charity shop. Visit those neglected relatives. I have a feeling that this will bring me closer to Christmas than I can bring myself, or that any amount of mulled wine will carry me towards.

Merry Christmas guys. I hope that yours is filled with love, laughter, generosity and joy. Xx