I’ve lost my ho ho ho.

There’s little left to my jolly. I don’t see peace on earth until I look at the stars.

Carl Sagan said, we are made of star stuff.

Rumi said, look to the stars to see our self.

I’m looking with sunglasses on because the Christmas lights are blinding me. I wander through stores in search of something, to belting renditions of Jingle Bell Rock and Silent Night. It’s anything but silent. It sucks.

I want to hibernate until January. No February. Sh*t. February has only one good day and it’s not Valentine’s Day. Let’s try for March.

Earlier this season, I went to a holiday concert. I was more amused by the whitish-blue-haired ladies surrounding me. They had joy and incontinence. What freedom to pee as they conducted and clapped to Hava Nagalia with more zest than I could muster in a sneeze. I listened for a message and I thought I heard it in an oboe that played off-key. I tried hard to tune the notes in my mind. I felt the splinters from the reed.

My Grinch-like heart was two-sizes-too-small.

I see more lights adorn winter bare branches than leaves. The bushes and houses are all aglow. I wish I had a BB gun like in the movie Christmas Story. Target shooting would be fun. The homeowners association would not be pleased. Home for the Holidays would not be the theme.

I search my heart for meaning, especially at this time of year.  At a local restaurant, Santa, a-not-so-jolly-bedraggled-elf, popped in for happy hour. He got tired too. His beard rested around his neck, a napkin to catch the drips; snacking on a corn dog, oh yum. Doubt he uses a green dry cleaner. Hope he fed the reindeer before he sucked down another one. I worry about the flying animals, fictional or not.

Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Happy Hanukkah! Feliz Navidad!  Buy! Buy! Buy! It’s an incessant trill to my already overloaded senses. I’m not happy-happy. My inbox overflows with the best sales of the season with 30 percent off and free shipping when you spend $125 or more! Hark! The Herald Angels Sing …Cha-Ching.

Master Card might have figured it out with its priceless commercials.

Money can’t buy it all.

Peace, love and joy can’t be marketed. They come quietly in the opalescent glow of a flickering flame…a real candle flame, damn it!

Do You See What I See? A star, a star dancing in the night….

We are star stuff.

We are Love. Peace. Joy.

The universe is speaking. We are shifting, changing, growing, glowing, expanding, ascending and descending—to find the realness of it all.

Do you hear what I hear?

This time I hear the message and I’m answering the call.

Happy Winter Solstice to all, and to all, a good night!

 ~

Assistant Ed: Terri Tremblett

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