Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Change
I sense a big change in me. Ever since that ceremony. I have started to see things differently, and feel that in the months to come, a big change will happen in my life. I like to think I know what that is, but rarely do thinks turn out as I expect. Sometimes they do, though.
I haven't celebrated Christmas since '98.
Growing up, I celebrated for greed. Then I celebrated for greed and giving and the joy and happiness that my dysfunctional family would feel one of the few times throughout the year. As I got older and learned a few things, I failed to understand any purpose in the holiday for me. It is a holiday to celebrate a great peacemaker whose name pours from the lips of some of the most horrific genocidal maniacs on earth. Sick and twisted world this is. Plus, Jesus was born during tax time which was in the spring. That's why they were all being gathered was to be taxed...in the spring. Jesus was born in the spring. Then I read articles of the cooptation of pagan ceremonies: wreaths, holly, mistletoe, winter solstice, etc. Then...I married a Christian. Not a whole lot of talk about Jesus during this time of year, and when there was it sounded like propaganda, not like admiring the journeys of a peacemaker whose name is screamed out in war.
But I am a man who believes in freedom. You are free to celebrate Christmas and put whatever it means to you in it. To make it your own. For many it is a time where people can be nice to each other. For others it is deep depression. For some, it's the annual dysfunctional family gathering. It is many things for many people. Who am I to stand between that?
The last Christmas I celebrated was in '98 with my first wife. My next wife is a pagan and didn't believe in Christmas. However, those holiday seasons were mixed with people who do, and celebrating with them. The gifts we bought each other had to be called "Solstice" gifts. The lights had to be called "Solstice" lights. And when I'd slip...and call them Christmas lights, there was hell to pay, and boy did I ever pay for it. Thus, not only did I now feel iffy about Christmas, "Solstice" was getting pretty sucky as well.
Last year, I really didn't celebrate. My daughter and I had dinner with the woman whom I would become housemates with. I gave my daughter some money. The purist of capitalism. I'm not so sure I'll be celebrating it this year, either.
Yesterday, I fell asleep riding home on the bus. I sat in the back row of 5 seats and fell asleep almost immediately. Upon waking up, half way home, I was surprised to see a beautiful indigenous woman sitting two seats beside me. I kept glancing at her. She was so quiet, I didn't eve hear her. She had a beautiful face, and a mannerism that seemed very sweet. A few stops later, as I'm still shaking the cobwebs from my brain and wondering if I should talk with this beautiful woman who keeps her eyes forward with a soft sweet smile and black shiny hair.
"Gene!" I hear the loud voice. It's the crazy talking lady. Harmless, nice, and won't stop talking. She finds the compassionate people who will either just let her go on and on or those who engage her, like I had in the past.
"Hey," I respond, and now am really starting to come awake.
"You know Eugene?" she asks the beautiful indigenous woman.
"No," she says quietly.
Without word, crazy plops herself and bag between me and the beautiful indigenous woman and...well...basically pushes her aside. I know why the Crazy Lady is there. She is a reminder. I smile and appreciate it as I try to talk with her until it just becomes her talking. I smile and listen. Sometimes we just need someone to listen to us.
The woman I am interested in celebrates Christmas. Honesly...I like it. Of course, however, I know I like pretty much everything about her.
I have been breaking my own rules, lately. A friend of mine, a vegetarian, called me once and told me with laughter and joyous abandon that she had just eaten a piece of pork, something severely punishable by her vegan boyfriend, who happened to be out of town. I have eathen the wrong types of junk food since I left my last wife. I have even eaten at McDonalds twice, still, something I don't want to make a habit of, in fact, probably never again. However, it felt good to break those rules.
And remember. Remember the story I have told all of you? How the day I left that abusive fucking asshole, my sister and I went to Jack in the Box and got dinner? How my sister had to give me permission to eat my fries before we get home because the asshole won't be waiting there to be offended if I did, therefore I could now live by my own rules and not those of someone who wanted to be my master instead of my partner? I did tell you that one...right?
I haven't celebrated Christmas since '98.
Growing up, I celebrated for greed. Then I celebrated for greed and giving and the joy and happiness that my dysfunctional family would feel one of the few times throughout the year. As I got older and learned a few things, I failed to understand any purpose in the holiday for me. It is a holiday to celebrate a great peacemaker whose name pours from the lips of some of the most horrific genocidal maniacs on earth. Sick and twisted world this is. Plus, Jesus was born during tax time which was in the spring. That's why they were all being gathered was to be taxed...in the spring. Jesus was born in the spring. Then I read articles of the cooptation of pagan ceremonies: wreaths, holly, mistletoe, winter solstice, etc. Then...I married a Christian. Not a whole lot of talk about Jesus during this time of year, and when there was it sounded like propaganda, not like admiring the journeys of a peacemaker whose name is screamed out in war.
But I am a man who believes in freedom. You are free to celebrate Christmas and put whatever it means to you in it. To make it your own. For many it is a time where people can be nice to each other. For others it is deep depression. For some, it's the annual dysfunctional family gathering. It is many things for many people. Who am I to stand between that?
The last Christmas I celebrated was in '98 with my first wife. My next wife is a pagan and didn't believe in Christmas. However, those holiday seasons were mixed with people who do, and celebrating with them. The gifts we bought each other had to be called "Solstice" gifts. The lights had to be called "Solstice" lights. And when I'd slip...and call them Christmas lights, there was hell to pay, and boy did I ever pay for it. Thus, not only did I now feel iffy about Christmas, "Solstice" was getting pretty sucky as well.
Last year, I really didn't celebrate. My daughter and I had dinner with the woman whom I would become housemates with. I gave my daughter some money. The purist of capitalism. I'm not so sure I'll be celebrating it this year, either.
Yesterday, I fell asleep riding home on the bus. I sat in the back row of 5 seats and fell asleep almost immediately. Upon waking up, half way home, I was surprised to see a beautiful indigenous woman sitting two seats beside me. I kept glancing at her. She was so quiet, I didn't eve hear her. She had a beautiful face, and a mannerism that seemed very sweet. A few stops later, as I'm still shaking the cobwebs from my brain and wondering if I should talk with this beautiful woman who keeps her eyes forward with a soft sweet smile and black shiny hair.
"Gene!" I hear the loud voice. It's the crazy talking lady. Harmless, nice, and won't stop talking. She finds the compassionate people who will either just let her go on and on or those who engage her, like I had in the past.
"Hey," I respond, and now am really starting to come awake.
"You know Eugene?" she asks the beautiful indigenous woman.
"No," she says quietly.
Without word, crazy plops herself and bag between me and the beautiful indigenous woman and...well...basically pushes her aside. I know why the Crazy Lady is there. She is a reminder. I smile and appreciate it as I try to talk with her until it just becomes her talking. I smile and listen. Sometimes we just need someone to listen to us.
The woman I am interested in celebrates Christmas. Honesly...I like it. Of course, however, I know I like pretty much everything about her.
I have been breaking my own rules, lately. A friend of mine, a vegetarian, called me once and told me with laughter and joyous abandon that she had just eaten a piece of pork, something severely punishable by her vegan boyfriend, who happened to be out of town. I have eathen the wrong types of junk food since I left my last wife. I have even eaten at McDonalds twice, still, something I don't want to make a habit of, in fact, probably never again. However, it felt good to break those rules.
And remember. Remember the story I have told all of you? How the day I left that abusive fucking asshole, my sister and I went to Jack in the Box and got dinner? How my sister had to give me permission to eat my fries before we get home because the asshole won't be waiting there to be offended if I did, therefore I could now live by my own rules and not those of someone who wanted to be my master instead of my partner? I did tell you that one...right?
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