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Tiptoeing ever so close to the holiday, yet the spirit of the season is sadly lacking. Not for want of trying. After Friday's efforts fell so ingloriously on their face, surely better must come during the weekend. And some better did... though the day after drew to a constricted close. The culprit in both cases... the feeding frenzy. The avalanche of advertising and the disapointed whine of merchants on the few icy days had all roads clotted with gridlock. The round-trip to F'bg came to a shreiking halt as soon as we approached the city limits. Massive thrombosis of the main arteries... by carpuscles. Literally a sea of SUV's and minivans making any progress to stores impossible. It's this that saps the inspiration... the unspoken insinuation that you must buy to show friends and loved ones that you care; that you must buy to keep the economy strong; that you must buy to justify the craving for gifts in return. This just isn't jiving with me, this time. Yes, I would, and do, give all year long... because that is me. Constant, months-long bombardment just whittle away at the reason for it all. Though I'm pushed ever closer to agnosticism, I don't want to lose the excitement and serenity that I grew to love. But it's hard. And, truly, there's nothing that can be wrapped in shiny paper that I need. What I always do look forward to... that time, past midnight on the eve of Christmas when I take a walk outside and listen to the sound of serene silence. No cars, no stereos, no raised voices... just a thick hush that radiates from the dark. The one moment of calm, unadulterated. |
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