Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Oh! What an idyll.
For many there is plenty stirring on the night before Christmas. And many more could only hope they had the energy or the freedom to be stirred – or to stir.
The paedestrian necessity of one word following another prevents adequacy in describing garbled, mixed up feelings, mish- mashed thinking, and contrary spirit – all happening at the very same moment.
Sacred gratitudes and burning guilt get delivered with overwhelming good fortune, abundant and sublime beauty presses joyful tears, innocence & naivety raise hopes & spirits.
Deep, disturbing sorrow follows fathomless want & need, seething anger lit by treachery.
I cannot limit myself to 140 characters – that seems more inadequate than being restricted by a chronology, though it may well be far more effective. (It does seem something of an anachronism to be “tweeting” a Christmas message.)
I cannot issue a blanket “season greetings” or “Merry Christmas” to cover all my friends, family, and contacts. I just can’t. Each one of you is unique, special, requiring of a singular thought, even if only a sigh of satisfaction and a breath of thanks – for you have changed my world in some precious way.
And there are many in the world, the many who none of us have met, the many who make up the majority, the many for whom being special and unique is dominated by cruel and unrelenting suffering.
How is it that I can be the host of such contradiction – elevated & blessed, damned & despairing. Maybe we are all carriers and contradiction truly is the motor of history.
In a few hours time it will be Christmas Day. It is now – the night before Christmas when all through my house, I hope something is stirring.
For me … I hope it is forgiveness that is stirring.
What about you?
Merry Christmas, friends.
mishmashmax 