A Christmas message

[C. E.]

Merry Christmas. I'm sitting at a wonderful little cafe (the rare one that is open today!) in the old historic Marigny district of New Orleans. Extended family lives north of Lake Ponchartrain - about an hour's drive. They celebrate on the 26th, so today is present-wrapping day. I'll be heading up there this afternoon. But for now, it's quiet. Shops are closed. The crowds are gone. People are scarce. And it's a great time to just sit and reflect.

My hotel is near the river. If you get up very early and stand on the levy, you can actually hear the Mississippi - just this low rumble that you don't normally notice as the "white noise" of the morning until you actually do notice it. Hear it. Feel it travel through your bones. I am reminded of George Harrison's lyrics in one of the songs in his last album (Brainwashed) ... I'm a Pisces fish and the river runs through my soul. Well, I'm an Aries through and through, much to the frustration of those who know me. But I'm on Pisces' cusp so I am close. And the river flows through me as well, a reminder of the connections I have with the world around me even while I feel so disconnected from everything else. We all float down our rivers, our lives. Some of the currents may have taken us to unhealthy places, to a branch on the wrong side of an island, full of rapids and treachery that threatened to drown us. We look over at other lives around us and they seem to casually float down their own rivers on inner tubes, drink in hand, soaking up the sunshine, living the lives we once imagined for ourselves. And that's when we run the greatest risk of all - envy. Bitterness at what was taken. Anger at how unfair it all was.

He took a lot. But as much as he took from me, he took even more from himself. He grew old before his time, and the demons he hoped to quell by embracing the younger angels around him didn't work out so well. I have every right to be bitter. But I learned something from going through what I did, and from watching him. The emotions we project may singe those around us. But they utterly consume us. After a while, we just become the emotions we immerse ourselves in. Sure. I have every right to be bitter. Every reason. But I'll be damned if I will embrace that bitterness and become an emotional monument to what he did to me. It's quite simple - I can either live this one life I have as a reaction to him. Or be proactive and live my life for me - and for those who better deserve my energy. The simple smile I still possess that he never fully stole says more about the power I have over him than all the anger I could ever muster.

I still see those wonderful lives floating down serene rivers. I used to think Hey - why isn't that me? But now I understand that my serenity is found in a deeper place. What if there is a God, and perhaps he picked me because he knew that I was tough enough to travel the river I did? What if the crosses we were given were what we were supposed to carry after all? What if he knows our strength better than we do ourselves - that maybe we can even step out of ourselves and change the world? I think that maybe - just maybe - what we see as a curse blinds us to a hidden blessing. When you look at those calmer rivers around you, never forget that asking for an easy life is not the question, nor is finding it the answer. That's not why we are here. We are survivors. And we each share a greater story about the human spirit.

 

[Suwanee]

Eirik,

Thank you very much for a timely (and timeless) message on a day that has long symbolized secular and sacred hope despite its consumerist trappings. It’s a day in the northern hemisphere after the sun pauses its southerly retreat and resumes a more reassuring northerly trace of the analemma. For millennia; that small (large) miracle provided reassurance during the darkest days of each year.


P.S.

As you probably know, I appreciate the river imagery because of its place in my own life. My screen name even alludes to its importantance to me. Time spent paddling rivers great and small, as well as backpacking over mountains low and high are key segments of my own “journey.” I’m neither Pisces or Aries, but I am Gemini, which I suppose is quite fitting to it all. Castor and Pollux...


Will

 

[Tom E.]

Thank you for your moving, inspiring message. Bless you!

 

[Bluedogone]

Thanks Eric,

I'm neither Aries, Pisces OR Gemini but us Capricorns also have a fondness for this special time of year.

Janus was a god capable of looking both backward and forward. I'm reminded that the past does not have to be prologue. I didn't choose the abusive parts of my younger years, but I do get to choose how I face the future.

Merry Christmas

 

[traveler]

thank you for this, Eirik.

that meant more to me than all the other holiday messages I have heard or read this year put together.

you win!

Lee

 

[i-m-Bri]

Eirik,

Thank you for smiling, thank you.

 

[WG]

Thanks, Eric for the thoughtful words. Christmas for us as younger parents meant a number of presents for our children, laughter, joy, music, piles of wrapping paper and a contented feeling that cannot be purchased. Now it means something different for us. Age, surgeries, stroke and life issues have us in a different place in life now. The children have grown, we have a smaller home now, many relatives have since passed away and life has become smaller for us. Change, but good change, has happened. As we all know in here, we roll with the changes and make the best of where we are - because we learned how to do that at an early age.

 

[AuthenticMe]

It’s hard sometimes to find meaning in what we endured. And maybe there isn’t any. But during my good times, I’ve glimpsed the possibilities. Thanks for putting that feeling into words.