The Christmas list
I want miracles. My first proposed miracle for tomorrow would be to wake up in the sure and certain knowledge that no one else is waking up hungry or homeless. Far too many people in the UK alone will do both tomorrow. Not because they deserve it. Not because we’ve been hit by war or natural disaster, but because of the wilful incompetence of politicians who see human lives as just numbers on a page. Not very important numbers, at that.
As the second proposed miracle, I would like to wake up tomorrow and find that, during the night everyone has spontaneously noticed that we have just the one planet and that trashing it is suicide. While we are undertaking that miracle, I’d like us to suddenly all realise that there is more to quality of life than material greed and that it is utterly shameful to own wanton excesses of wealth when others are suffering. I would like us all to start feeling a bit more responsible for each other and for the world we live in. I think pretty much everything else could be sorted out with that in place.
Tomorrow I mostly get what I have wanted for me. I get to wake up beside the man of my choosing, knowing that my child is safe, well and happy. I get to walk across the hills. I’m doing an epic trek, and very much looking forward to it. There will be time to greet the ancestors along the way, and the hours of quietly walking with Tom and taking in the views will be a joy, whatever the weather gives us. I am hoping for a peaceful and conflict free day. This year, I am passably happy, for which I am deeply grateful. This time last year, I was burned out emotionally, and poised to have a dose of pneumonia. I have a better place to live than I had a year ago, and better prospects. It’s more than enough to be going along with.
What else is there to want? A few days off. The company of people I like. Something fun. I’ve had some beautiful time out with friends and family in the last week or so – The Enchanted Christmas at Westonbirt, with trees lit up in lovely ways. Cold and windswept solstice honouring, with a wild wind, the ancestors, and good friends. Time to be outside, and to be with people. Music in the offing… the good stuff.
Christmas always leads me to thinking about the people who are no longer in my life, too. The dead. The dear ones who live too far away for me to see often. The ones who fell out of my life by various means; deliberate, accidental, wanted and unwanted. As a consequence it is for me a time of nostalgia and a touch of melancholy. Any excuse…
In too many households the next few days will be an excuse, amongst the stress of the festive period, to shout at someone. Family tensions rise to the surface, all too often. The pressures of poverty and advertising combine to create stresses and demands that cannot be met. The children who are taught through commercials that love is measured in the size and number of gifts. The women conditioned to believe that Christmas is a time when you work yourself ragged to provide something ‘perfect’ for a bunch of people, some perhaps more grateful than others. It is a time when far too much food and goods will be sent on to landfill. The season of waste. The season of arguments, the worst time for those who are already alone, vulnerable, in trouble, grieving…
Whatever you do with the next few days, do it gently. Do not let it be an excuse for crap. No amount of expense, alcohol or imperfect cooking justifies violence… be that verbal or physical, but in some homes it will be handled just that way. Look out for the people around you. And if you’d like to make some contributions to proposed miracles one and two, the world is your oyster.
