Sap
Yes. I'm a huge sap.
I get misty when I see Santa Claus. I have to struggle to look like a sane human being when I see my son see Santa Claus- his first hero. It is all I can do to keep from bursting into huge sobs of conflicted joy.
Sullivan has 13 Santas in his growing collection. He loves Santa with a ferociousness that I envy. I wish I was pure enough to love like that. Then, when I see what he is learning from the legend of Santa Claus I swear that my heart will just about rip in two. All this kindness and generosity and feeling your own worthiness because Santa validates children in their own greedy little language- toys! I can't wait to see Sullivan rip open his presents on Sunday morning. There is this cute stuffed squirrel (believe it or not, that one is a request from his own Christmas list) that I know he is going to hug to pieces and lustily declare "Squirrelly is my BEST FRIEND!".
We are going to watch "It's a Wonderful Life" tomorrow and all of you cynical fuckers can stuff it in your pipe and smoke it. I don't care what you say- that film is beautifully done and is much darker and more real than the parodies suggest. I do enjoy a good parody, but you have to give credit where credit is due. Jimmy Stewart's performance in that movie is one of the most beautifully crafted characterizations in cinematic history. If you aren't seeing that- you aren't looking. After all, who can't relate to feeling as screwed as George Bailey feels? He's a good man with a wry and angry sense of humor. He is seething with sarcasm and aggression. He's good because he knows it is the right thing to do- not because he wants to do it. He struggles for a better life. He messes up. How can your heart not break for him and for his family after he lashes out at them? It is brutal and it is honest. If you know me at all you know that that is the highest praise I can possibly give. That brutality makes his redemption all the more meaningful and all the more possible for the rest of us who seek it.
It seems that every Christmas I cry a lot. It's like a crying sales event, all tears must go to make room for the 2006 models! It's like my friend Theresa once told me- it is our relationship to hope and not sorrow that makes us cry. We cry when we have it and we cry when we don't. I have so much hope that I think I will explode. The tears are like an end of the year release valve for things I have not let go of during the year.
I have to believe in Santa Claus but mostly, I have to believe that Jesus was a man. His birth, although we feel the need to seperate his arrival on this planet from our own, is no more or less miraculous than our own. We should, each of us, be so anticipated. If we weren't anticipated and honored then we must learn how to honor ourselves. With each new arrival on this planet is the possibility of more love. That is why Christmas is, essentially, a children's holiday. To celebrate a child is to celebrate possibility and the divinity that rests within each of us. To me, Christmas is less about the man who walked the Earth then as it is about those that walk the Earth now with choices to make. Is the world better for my choices? If not, can I make it better next year? Can I practice forgiveness so that I may be forgiven? Am I allowing myself to experience love? These are the questions that Jesus the MAN contemplated. It is, I think, a mistake to set him so far away from us as if his goodness is unattainable by us mere mortals. Jesus was a man and each year we have a moment to reflect on how we can see the same kindness of spirit in those around us and in ourselves. Each one of us is responsible for what we add to life on this planet. Now we can assess, show appreciation, rest, and have love for one another. The potential for your own, particular kind of greatness rests within you. It is your birth right. It is your responsibility to nurture that greatness and share it with the world.
Now you must love. Because that is what is required.
I get misty when I see Santa Claus. I have to struggle to look like a sane human being when I see my son see Santa Claus- his first hero. It is all I can do to keep from bursting into huge sobs of conflicted joy.
Sullivan has 13 Santas in his growing collection. He loves Santa with a ferociousness that I envy. I wish I was pure enough to love like that. Then, when I see what he is learning from the legend of Santa Claus I swear that my heart will just about rip in two. All this kindness and generosity and feeling your own worthiness because Santa validates children in their own greedy little language- toys! I can't wait to see Sullivan rip open his presents on Sunday morning. There is this cute stuffed squirrel (believe it or not, that one is a request from his own Christmas list) that I know he is going to hug to pieces and lustily declare "Squirrelly is my BEST FRIEND!".
We are going to watch "It's a Wonderful Life" tomorrow and all of you cynical fuckers can stuff it in your pipe and smoke it. I don't care what you say- that film is beautifully done and is much darker and more real than the parodies suggest. I do enjoy a good parody, but you have to give credit where credit is due. Jimmy Stewart's performance in that movie is one of the most beautifully crafted characterizations in cinematic history. If you aren't seeing that- you aren't looking. After all, who can't relate to feeling as screwed as George Bailey feels? He's a good man with a wry and angry sense of humor. He is seething with sarcasm and aggression. He's good because he knows it is the right thing to do- not because he wants to do it. He struggles for a better life. He messes up. How can your heart not break for him and for his family after he lashes out at them? It is brutal and it is honest. If you know me at all you know that that is the highest praise I can possibly give. That brutality makes his redemption all the more meaningful and all the more possible for the rest of us who seek it.
It seems that every Christmas I cry a lot. It's like a crying sales event, all tears must go to make room for the 2006 models! It's like my friend Theresa once told me- it is our relationship to hope and not sorrow that makes us cry. We cry when we have it and we cry when we don't. I have so much hope that I think I will explode. The tears are like an end of the year release valve for things I have not let go of during the year.
I have to believe in Santa Claus but mostly, I have to believe that Jesus was a man. His birth, although we feel the need to seperate his arrival on this planet from our own, is no more or less miraculous than our own. We should, each of us, be so anticipated. If we weren't anticipated and honored then we must learn how to honor ourselves. With each new arrival on this planet is the possibility of more love. That is why Christmas is, essentially, a children's holiday. To celebrate a child is to celebrate possibility and the divinity that rests within each of us. To me, Christmas is less about the man who walked the Earth then as it is about those that walk the Earth now with choices to make. Is the world better for my choices? If not, can I make it better next year? Can I practice forgiveness so that I may be forgiven? Am I allowing myself to experience love? These are the questions that Jesus the MAN contemplated. It is, I think, a mistake to set him so far away from us as if his goodness is unattainable by us mere mortals. Jesus was a man and each year we have a moment to reflect on how we can see the same kindness of spirit in those around us and in ourselves. Each one of us is responsible for what we add to life on this planet. Now we can assess, show appreciation, rest, and have love for one another. The potential for your own, particular kind of greatness rests within you. It is your birth right. It is your responsibility to nurture that greatness and share it with the world.
Now you must love. Because that is what is required.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 1:17 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home