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"Fate was never stronger than the serene courage with which one faced it. If one could no longer stand it, one could kill oneself. This was good to know, but it was also good to know that one was never completely lost so long as one was alive."
Ravic, from ’Arch of Triumph’ by Erich Maria Remarque
The Meaning of Christmas
Listening to people, I hear a lot of people talking about the “real” or “true” meaning of Christmas. Love, giving, selflessness, peace, sharing, faith, hope, Black Friday—everyone says all sorts of stuff.
I find myself tacking meanings on from time to time as well.
So what is the true meaning of Christmas?
I don’t think there is a single true meaning. Christmas is much too big for that. Humanity is not simple. For a holiday whose history entwines itself with humanity’s own history beyond time memorable, to simply tack on a one word description of everything which it encapsulates is too simplistic.
Christmas is too deep for that.
As Kris Kringle in Miracle on 34th Street says, “Christmas is not just a day, but a frame of mind.”
Rather than have a single emotional attachment, or a single mental symbolism, it encapsulates a certain perspective on life—one that includes things such as love, and faith, and hope and joy…
…one that holds together all the meanings attributed to it.
Well, most. I don’t think Black Friday is included.
Merry Christmas to all :)
Inescapable, yet Mutable, Thoughts
Lately I’ve been seeing a lot of posts about thoughts. More specifically, I’ve been seeing posts about how one can never escape their thoughts.
Thoughts are powerful things. They can build, inspire, encourage…
They can also break you.
BUT.
Thoughts, at their very core, originate from you. You are their Creator and Sustainer.
And if able enough, their Destroyer.
Thoughts (just like everything else in this universe), once created, aren’t so easily destroyed (at least, Idon’t find them easy to destroy). But they are always mutable.
At your hands against any inescapable, hurtful thoughts are the tools of the mind and the powers of the heart. Imagination, logic, faith, courage, love—if you can find it within yourself, then it is within your grasp.
Think about it.
The beliefs in my heart and the thoughts in my head…amongst other things, I am here to connect a line between the two.
From Madeline L’Engle’s “A Wrinkle in Time”…
“…How can I explain it to you? Oh, I know. In your language you have a form of poetry called the sonnet.”
“Yes, yes,” Calvin said impatiently. “What’s that got to do with the Happy Medium?”
“Kindly pay me the courtesy of listening to me.” Mrs. Whatsit’s voice was stern, and for a moment Calvin stopped pawing the ground like a nervous colt. “It is a very strict form of poetry, is it not?”
“Yes.”
“There are fourteen lines, I believe, all in iambic pentameter. That’s a very strict rhythm or meter, yes?”
“Yes.” Calvin nodded.
“But within this strict form the poet has complete freedom to say whatever he wants, doesn’t he?”
“Yes.” Calvin nodded again.
“So,” Mrs. Whatsit said.
“So what?”
“Oh, don’t be stupid, boy!” Mrs. Whatsit scolded. “You know perfectly well what I’m driving at!”
“You mean you’re comparing us to a sonnet? A strict form, but freedom within it?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Whatsit said. “You’re given the form, but you have to write the sonnet yourself. What you say is completely up to you.”
The Cry of Reason
Reason was tired. As the waves of sadness washed over him, he weeped, the silent tears wracking his body.
Faith looked on quietly. She bent down, and whispered softly in his ear, “προφητείας μὴ ἐξουθενεῖτε, πάντα δὲ δοκιμάζετε, τὸ καλὸν κατέχετε.”
She stood up, gently held his head in her hands, and wiped away a tear. They gazed into each other’s eyes, as Reason settled down. Faith just watched quietly, till he was settled. She gave him a smirk.
“Rejoice?” she asked.
He started to grin. “Always.”
