The God-prescribed armistice came into being this year, too: in short, the world seems to have yet again refrained from its all too earthly wheelings and dealings, and burst into a state of euphoria, sprinkling peace, beauty and happiness all over itself.
Some of the holy signs looked quite the same, no matter where they landed (perhaps because sourcing from the One?...): Christmas lights on the streets and in the windows, Christmas trees, Christmas tunes, Christmas movies, Christmas – selfless, giving – glitters in the eyes of politicians, businessmen and stars, a.s.o.
[I feel tempted to further dissect some of the local incarnations of the Christmas spirit, but I’m not sure whether I could master the ensuing deluge of thoughts – I’d better keep it all locked up.]
Well, I don’t remember what happened in other such Occasions, but this Christmas Eve I found myself putting up a fierce resistance. No matter how hard I’ve tried (I think I’ve tried), and in spite of all the mediatic help – music, those telegenic, caring Christmas smiles behind the screen, etc. – I couldn’t let the seemingly ubiquitous Peace, Goodness and Beauty go through me.
Decorating the Christmas tree didn’t help either. Once garnished with some of the painstakingly made ginger bread cookies, plus leaves and cones, the initially good-looking, small, and funny green tree (it had two peaks instead of one…) turned into something I couldn’t decide whether it was plain ugly, or just weird.
Annoyed, I started thinking about Christmas – what is it, actually? Or rather, what should it be? Or "should" it be at all, and for whom, why, etc. ... (I’m not exactly a Believer). Too unsettled to think clearly and perhaps even decide (although I never quite decide, I would still doubt), I gave up the whole Christmas problem, surrendering to whatever was going on.
Until late in the night, when I stumbled over a TV program about Leonard Cohen. While listening to some lyrics, I suddenly felt some sort of – I don't quite know how to put it – warm, beautiful peace flowing freely throuh me. In an instant, I knew – no further doubts – that my Christmas tree with horns was just right the way it was.
ring the bells that can still ring
forget your perfect offerings
there’s a crack in everything
that’s how the light gets in
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