I'm not getting any of those inspirations at the moment. "Silent Night" in Gaelic is playing on the stereo. The artificial fireplace is crackling and I can smell fake pine scent, and I wonder why these artificial remnants of a vital, pagan culture give me comfort. Would the real things give me more inspiration? I don't know.
I admit that I have fantasies about Victorian-style Christmas Eves (note that in Victorian Christmas, decorations were put up Christmas eve and remained till January 6, the twelfth night of Christmas.) Of course, my fantasy soon takes me off into a decidedly pagan adventure with Father Christmas, finding a way to slip largesse and joy into people's lives in the countryside. This might involve some invisible smuggling hunting of wild game for the table in a Robin Hood turn. Or modern ones, following an elusive busker through Chicago decorated for the holidays, a search for the treasure of knowing a talented soul.
For not being inspired, I sure feel inspired today.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I believe that everyone here comes with good intent. If you come to spoil my assumptions by verbal abuse, excessive profanity, spam or other abuses I had not considered, I reserve the right to delete your notes or delete your participation. I am the arbiter of what violates good intent.