So this is Christmas. And what have we done? I've been asking myself that question quite a bit lately. Whenever I watch the news or peruse Facebook or Twitter, I just see more anger, more bigotry, more violence and misery. Pain and grief. The very foundations of our democracy are under attack, our poisoned planet is slowly dying, multitudes are suffering every moment of every day, and most decent people can't even be bothered to care. Maybe because most people aren't decent. That's a terribly pessimistic way to envisage one's fellow man, but I've seen abundant evidence in my life to bolster this point of view.
I have wanted to believe for so long that we are inherently good, but I'm simply not convinced that's the case at all. Terrence Malick encapsulated my thoughts on this matter perfectly in his film The Tree Of Life with the argument of nature versus grace. Nature is our base instinct, our internal self. That frightened, greedy animal that lives within all of us. Nature is what we are when we don't try; we take what we want, we lash out at the weak and the different, we despise what we do not understand. Grace is forgiveness; it is understanding; it is mercy. One must choose to follow the path of grace, for it is not in one's nature to be merciful. We are not inherently good, but we have the inherent capacity for good.
I do not believe in any god or gods, nor do I believe in any form of life after death. I've tried to believe all my life, but I've never felt it in my heart, that unshakable foundation of a true believer's faith. I want to believe that when this worn-out body of mine finally gives up the ghost, some part of me will endure. I want to believe that when I leave this world I will be reunited with the people who have gone before me.
I want to see my grandmother again, untouched by the ravages of the dementia that stole her away from her family, bit by bit, over so many years, that pestilence that left her a confused and frightened shell of a human being in the end. I want to hear my best friend laugh again, to look him in the eye and tell him how much he meant to me. I want to sit with my late Aunt and Uncle and hear them bicker and carry on about this and that the way they used to before they died too young. I want to talk about Star Trek with her and have him muss my hair again.
I want to believe that I'll see them all again, that all their suffering had some purpose. That's one of the reasons why Christmastime can hurt so much these days. Our family always gathered on Christmas. We would sit around and exchange presents and tell stupid jokes and just enjoy each other's company for a little while. Looking back, I know I didn't appreciate those too-few days when we were all together nearly enough. I was always too preoccupied thinking about going back to my room and playing with whatever new toys I had unwrapped that morning as a child to really understand how precious those moments truly were. But that's always the way, isn't it? We don't know what we've got until it's slipped through our fingers, and we're left with nothing but some old photographs and faded memories.
When the people who populate those memories are gone, the memories themselves become bittersweet, that melodic recollection of nostalgic joy now intertwined with an indelible note of grief. But that's life, I suppose. The pain is unavoidable, but it doesn't make the joy any less powerful or necessary. We are defined by our triumphs and tragedies. They shape us as we continue onward. Of course things just aren't the same anymore. Nothing remains the same. Too many people are absent from our Christmas gatherings, and their absence is more keenly felt with each passing year. We'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne. I hear that song these days and my eyes grow damp.
There's a melancholy to this season of winter that I have always appreciated. Looking outside, I see a dense fog blanketing the world, lending everything a ghostly pallor. Times such as these set me to contemplation, and that's all this is, really. I'm ruminating on the things that weigh so heavily on my mind at this time of year. Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? No. Never forgotten. There's always going to be pain and misery in this world. As long as human beings exist, we will know grief.
I don't know what's going to happen to this world come January. So much uncertainty hangs in the sky, suspended over our heads like the sword of Damocles. At times, it seems so difficult to see any hope out there in the fog. But isn't hope what this season is all about? As long as human beings exist, we will know hope.
That's the foundation of Christmas. What is Saturnalia? What is Yule? Our ancestors would gather together in the darkest, coldest nights of the year, those endless nights where the chill would sap the life from your cheeks and the joy from your eyes. They would gather and they would light fires and they would feast and make merry. They would laugh in the face of fear and pain and death. In the darkest of times, when the world appeared dead all around them, they would make plans for the next growing season. They didn't give in to despair; they defied the night and brought light to the darkness.
Hope springs eternal. That is the foundation of this holiday. I have hope. I believe in our inherent capacity for good. I believe in grace. To believe in anything else would disgrace the memory of the people I have lost. I believe in Christmas. In the words of Ebeneezer Scrooge, "I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year".
And in an attempt to do just that, I now present you with a special Christmas podcast, entitled "Yes, Virginia, This Is A Clip Show!", and it's a clip show, in case you haven't figured that out by now. Cobbled together from the best bits of all our previous holiday-themed podcasts (and I use the term "best" very loosely), this twenty-five minute-long holiday feast for your ears features Jesus Christ and his mythic bear-hand, Santa Claus: The Movie and jolly old St. Nick's Yuletide secret, Bela Lugosi, pointless nostalgia, PCP, festering resentment, Showgirls, Mexican dandelions, snuff films, menstruation, blind optimism, and drunkenness. So basically every single one of your Christmas bases is covered, here. Play it loud:
Yes, Virginia, This IS A Clip Show
That's all I've got for you this year, my friends. The family has departed, leaving me some time alone to contemplate life, the universe, and everything, and this is the result: a heaping helping of discordant rambling. That's what's on my mind today, so that's what I had to share with you. Consider it my Christmas present to you, because I sure as hell didn't buy you anything. I spent all my money this year on expensive Scotch. Because I have a feeling I'm going to need it. Thanks for playing along.
MERRY CHRISTMAS, MOTHERFUCKERS!
No comments:
Post a Comment