It was Christmas Eve, we were Catholic and on our way to Midnight Mass, my favorite service (I sang in the choir). That year, we had stopped first at my Uncle’s house for some celebrating together before going to church. The party was in their basement. I got bored, too excited to remain in a room surrounded by mostly grownups I guess. I wandered upstairs, alone.
Their Christmas tree was lit up in the corner of the living room. I can still visualize the hoard of gifts piled beneath it. I ran to it, hoping to see my name. To my amazement, I instead read “from Santa Claus”.
I was about 7 years old. At first there was a moment of confusion, followed soon after by increasing awareness; there really was no Santa Claus. This was my Aunt’s hand writing. Things changed after that.
It’s like that for us now, with conflicting “real” and “fake” news reports creating confusion at every turn. It is interesting to see the huge force of the cabal-backed Hollywood/media industry advocate division, separation and anger. It is a challenge to find a loud voice for unity anywhere.
Personal lives are in turmoil as well. My friends and family all seem to be dealing with changes in health, home, relationships and/or finances. There are some unexpected leavings.
I remember that Christmas Eve, when I was seven. Even though there was singing and eating and gifting and family, just like every other Christmas I remembered, it was surreal. It felt fake, I could see the charade. I couldn’t voice it then. My younger sister and cousins still believed and I wasn’t supposed to know yet.
Walking around today is reminiscent of my walk back downstairs to the basement those many years ago; instead of just people and happenings around me I see asleep people (like my younger cousins) making lots of noise, being fueled by fewer people (like my parents, aunts and uncles) who are awake but invested in keeping the noisy ones asleep. I watch arguments and read posts and if it wasn’t our life it could easily be some tragic attempt at a sit com.
At age 7 there was melancholy; I’d wished I’d never looked under that tree. Today, as I drive around my usual haunts, there is melancholy also. It is as if I am sad for saying goodbye to this life as I have known it up until now. Yet all around me it still appears to be business as usual.
So why the sadness? I eventually loved Christmas again, this time maybe for better and more sustainable reasons. Things like generosity, compassion, beauty and selfless love propel the season for me now. I don’t frequent church, yet the peace evident in the celebrations I attend is not attached to a building or institution or god – it’s inside the people there with me.
I think the sadness is because there is a sense of loss. We are leaving behind an innocent age that cannot be returned to. You cannot “unsee” anything. It’s a habitual emotion, bringing up needless anxiety and perpetuating attachments. Nothing is as it seems, it’s not just Santa Claus that isn’t real.
The way to powerfully proceed is to spend more effort strengthening your resolve than you do playing “push me pull you” with media reports. In the final analysis, which one you believe doesn’t matter nearly as much as who you are.
So, the good news is, we are creating a lasting reality; one built not on stories we’ve been told but on our internal truth. This will stand strong regardless of headline. It is birthed from your core.
We do not need the media to prove to us the truth of ourselves, we need to believe. For no one can rob you of who you are. So, whatever you hear or read or see, take it as bits of information; things that are necessary for grownups. They do not signify the end, but the start.
This beginning, happening right now, is the one you’ve been anticipating all along. It may not look as you’ve imagined or been told. That’s okay though, because you are all grown up now – you know who really supplies the best presents.
They come from love, which starts always in your own heart. As chaotic, overwhelming and potentially frightening this moment appears to be, remember it’s all part of the illusion. None of it is “real”. But you are.
(And) you are the one we’ve been waiting for.