It’s Christmas Eve…and?

It’s Christmas Eve, and a couple of days after the Winter Solstice. The latter is more significant for me, but even though December 24th is not particularly important for me in any theological manner it still feels quietly sacred. Perhaps all days are sacred in some way, but that’s another discussion.

There is a part of me that still believes in Santa Claus, or at least has some faith in the magic and the miracle. It’s about the return of the light, in Christian tradition as well as Jewish. Hannukah is all about the light, and the lamp that burned for 8 days with oil that should have been exhausted after one. Christmas tradition asks that we light the tree and the abode in order to guide St. Nick to our chimney.

It’s all about the light, and that feels particularly appropriate these days, when so much darkness abounds. It’s not just the inane black patches that redact information in files released by the government, it’s about the black patches in the heart and soul of the nation. Rev. Barber said years ago that America has a heart problem, and we need a defibrillator to get it back into a healthy rhythm. That still feels true.

People are, once again, discussing how to get information the government wants to hide. There has always been information the government wants to hide, since its inception. It’s usually about how and where power is disseminated, because that’s how we’re wired. If that didn’t cause so much suffering and inequity, it would be absurdly funny. Unfortunately, there’s nothing funny about playing a board game with very real human consequences for putting a hotel on Park Place.

For myself, I’ve felt largely misunderstood for most of my life., functioning with a dimmed and muted light. I’m sure that’s not a unique sentiment. I learned a while back that I am not terminally unique, that I am not the only one who feels disconnected, broken, and confused on a daily basis. I am, however, the only one who’s in my skin and behind these eyes. I’m the only one who sees things with the particular experiences that make up my history.

The other day, I was thinking that it would be great if I could really enlighten people around me to what it’s like to be in this skin, behind these eyes, with this history and with this spirit. Upon further review, as they say in football games, that might not be such a good idea. Would I really want to subject people I love and respect to the cacaphony that goes on inside my head every minute of every day? It’s noisy in there, and most of it makes no sense, just random sounds and thought fragments that have no discernible origin or even meaning. It’s like ADHD on steroids, I suppose, with a mega-dose of seratonin reuptake and the impulse control of a mosquito. Such is my life, although at this point it mostly amuses me.

When my life does not amuse me, however, it shows me dark and ciruitous paths in collective history, and reminds me there is nothing new here. Human beings have been doing insensible and inhumane things to each other sense before recorded history was evident. We are cyclic artifacts of random and free-floating chaos, and like chimpanzees given typewriters back in the day, it’s likely that, based on the odds and elements of chance, pretty soon we’re going to produce a masterpiece.

The masterpiece has been created, as far as I am concerned, and it’s kind of an impressionistic visual assault of a mad artist. This is a living work, however, and so we can all dabble in the paint and clay, like pre-schoolers in day care. We routinely build and destroy each others’ creations, often allying with other finger painters who are the most assertive or seemingly visonary. It’s a mess, and it challenges us with every breath we take, as the kaleidoscopic image continuously transforms our perceptions and outlook. Some of us probably see Jesus eating a sandwich or the Pope riding a lawnmower.

Because none of us has the power to control the end result, we find ourselves addicted to the delusion of power, and we forget that no one of us can overtake the free will of another. That frustrates us no end, and the constant tug of war over power ensures that we’ll never have peace, never rest, never realize our true place in the enormity of existence. We’re a tiny dot in a nearly infinite array of other tiny dots, but in our own minds, we’re the largest and most well-heeled of all the tiny dots. As pundits have divulged previously, that means we’re just shifting deck chairs on the Titanic.

I had a friend once (maybe she’s still a friend, but I don’t know), who frequently quoted one of her co-workers saying, “Whatever is happening is a major event when it’s happening to me, and it’s minor when it’s happening to you.” “It” could be anything from loss of a loved one to being diagnosed with a deadly disease, or anything in between. That sums up our common average level of humility and compassion these days. Basically, it sucks to be you, so use your free will to pull yourself up by your bootstraps (whatever those are) and carry on.

I do not doubt that compassion and humility exist in the hearts and souls of some human beings. It seems, however, those are very temporary conditions, and frequently dependent on how well one’s life is going. We desperately attempt to explain why there is unbidden suffering, but we collapse all thoughts of fairness and equity into the inherent reality that it is what ir is. There’s no explanation for why some of us suffer and others do not because we cannot see the incredibly big picture. Perhaps we are ALL suffering on some level, but only some of us have become aware enough to realize that some days you’re up, and some days you’re down, and that’s just the way it goes.

So, once again, I do not wish anyone else to live inside my chaotic and randomly firing heart and soul. I no longer care if there’s a definitive explanation for why I make such horrendous choice that bring nothing positive to me or anyone else. I don’t care if there’s a label that can describe the overgrown forest of kudzu that chokes the fertile ground underneath. I don’t want anyone else to grapple with answers to these unanswerable questions or beat themselves senseless trying to discern whether or not this was a conscious choice. These days I care enough about other people to not wish this interminable sequence of random blips of a useful signal on anyone else.

You’re welcome.