Christmas Eve

It's Christmas Eve. Pouring rain out, but that does nothing to diminish the Spirit of the season. Seen through the wet window glass, Christmas lights strung along the balcony of the motel across the street appear blurred. The sound of traffic on the highway is muted, adding to my feeling of cosiness. I've enjoyed a candle lit bubble bath, with music and a glass of wine. Now I'm in my nietie, working on my art. I have the t.v. tuned to the station that shows a burning fire (it's amazingly realistic, especially when that big hand reaches in to place another log in the flames). I have more carols playing, and I'm drinking a too strong tequila and iced tea. (need to learn how to mix better drinks....).

This will sound strange, but I'm hoping to become a bit sad tonight. Not depressed, obviously, but sortof drunkenly introspectively sad. Embracing my own sadness. I love that feeling. I believe there are different types of sadness. This one that I'm referring to, is wonderful in its sweeping tragedy. I don't really know how to explain it. Robin Williams described it once, in the movie (can't remember the title) where he plays a defector from Russia. Sitting on an abandoned couch with his friend after a night of drinking, Robin put into words this feeling of wonderful sadness. I'd never heard anyone speak about it before - I'd thought I was the only strange one who felt this way.

***

Many years ago, people used to gather on Christmas Eve, to tell ghost stories. Christmas Eve was a night when spirits walked. I was surprised to find this out. At first it didn't seem right - ghosts and Christmas didn't seem to mesh, somehow. But the idea grew on me, and now it seems completely realistic.

Imagine yourself out in the forest on Christmas Eve. The ground is blanketed in fresh snow, deer prints mark a trail that disappears into the gloom. The only sound is the crunching of your footsteps through deep snow, and the muffled whoosh as tree branches suddenly give way under their heavy load. Dipping ponderously down, they let the snow cascade from them, then they heave up into the air again. Easy to imagine in this scene, stumbling upon some magical creature, or spirit. Actually, Santa Clause is a spirit. A magical being who is rarely seen, possesses the ability to transcend time and space, and never dies.

Since I came to understand this other side of Christmas Eve, I feel the Christmas Spirit on an even deeper level than before. It's an ancient thing. And its power can easily overcome the negative effects of modern commercialism. The Spirit of Christmas will continue to make itself felt long after humans have blown themselves up and left the earth to some new, enterprising creature.