Jesus, Mary and Joseph, let's face it- Santa's got it in the bag, and his "good" list is the list to be on. It's the gospel truth if you're mother to a four-year old, and while I might be racked with guilt for using it, I find myself referencing said list at least once every two days and it's not even December yet. After all, where's the harm in a little extra good-behavior inducing magick? I can't help it, I merrily and eagerly surrender to the other-world at every turn in life, and now I have very persistent reason that wants a kid-kitchenette for christmas.
what's more?
His omnipotence doesn't ever seem to get in the way of his open interest in our lives, naughty or nice.
He's got a cuddly attentive velvet lap ready and waiting for us to just talk. Come to think of it, maybe we could all save money on therapy if we just visited Santa every now and then because he doesn't ask for money and wants to know above & beyond anything else how he can make our lives better. He's a role model not just in his generosity, but in his organizational skills, time and elf-management, a successful marriage (although I daresay that Mrs. Clause could use a film or two of her own). It's not a surprise that he gives us a second chance from time to time, he's a flawed one himself. If his waistline is any indication that he caves to temptation, so is the smoke habit of his that oft encircles his head "like a wreath". I wonder if Santa didn't lobby against prohibition in the 20's and is part of the Colorado & Washington states most recent merry legal attitude toward the occasional green indulgence. Recently I came across a new a politically correct version of "Twas the Night Before christmas" omitting references to a smoking Santa, but let's be honest
Hands down, Santa is the best drug around and more effective than chloroform.
He is, without question, the ever-forgiving, double-checking, animal loving, kindhearted, hot-toddy drinking saint we all wish was our real grandfather. Kris-Kringle is the image of perfect love; a jovial red-cheeked, non-judgmental soul who genuinely KNOWS what we've been up to, yet STILL always asks us how we are.
what's more?
His omnipotence doesn't ever seem to get in the way of his open interest in our lives, naughty or nice.
Allowed or disallowed their green, Elves will be Elves.
Given the time of year, we are looking for some escape from the dim reality that lies beyond the front door. Scotland is dreary and dark this time of year and Edinburgh is just shy of the Stockholm's latitudinal line. I must confess that it's been an adjustment even from Berlin whose wicked winters will slap you till you forget your name and now it's an hour darker for us, even still. It's no difficult task to see how the tradition of Santa emerged from Scandinavia; A mysterious jingle-jangle of a sleigh and promise of a few sweets from a jolly old Elf holds just enough magick to give the sun-starved, if not all together translucent babes a reason to see through another period of darkness. Vampires probably get more rays (and make more friends on account their lack of raw-garlic diet that keeps my immune system ticking this time of year). What with my 3:00-in-the-morning creative schedule I'm lucky to catch a few hours of sun at all, -but then, there are other ways to feel the glow, right? Right. Being creatures of habit, we all need reason for the season.
...because maybe that whole baby-mama knocked up by a "god"-stranger born in a manger thing just isn't enough. I went to Catholic school and I recall a certain uptight Mrs. Wetzel in the third grade sitting us down a week before christ-mess holiday to dispel rumors about Santa. She had overheard us chatting during rehearsal for the school play (I chose to be a rainbow that could only go through doors full on sideways, not much has changed) She wanted to not-so-sweetly "put to rest" and blasphemous notions we might have that would grant us no more than a one-way bus ticket to that most undesirable place further left of Death Valley than any 9-year-old should care to go,- if we knew what was good for us. (If you think this is bad, you should see what she showed us before Easter. "Good" Friday should be renamed "grim and bloody gruesome Friday"). I needed to hear no more; then and there, I was sold on Santa, and like anybody subject to prohibition, this know-it-all lecture inspired my most romantic ideas about Santa. Behind door number 1: A virgin (yeah right) in eternal service to her son, listening to voices, with no dreams of her own completely satisfied with an offspring that once having left her nest disappeared for 10 years without even so much as a letter to his poor mum- Oy vey. pass the birth control. Whereas, behind door number 2 there was Holly-hopped-up St. Nick, and while he can't offer me eternal salvation,.. a ukelele wouldn't hurt me reach that very close-to-ecstatic meditative state, which is the nearest I'll ever expect to come to heaven. Besides, wasn't Jesus just saying we should all have lunch together, make an efffot to be kind, and that heaven and hell are possible right-here-right-now as a result of our actions? Let's concentrate on the former, because heaven is a place on earth, it's now, and it's up to us. There is no doubt we make the world what it is, see what we what want to see, and angels walk among us.He's isn't perfect, but Santa not only has a generous heart~ he acts upon it, & that's a role-model enough, if you ask me
NOW IT'S TIME FOR US TO ACT
NOW IT'S TIME FOR US TO ACT
Speaking of Heaven-on-earth and selfless Santa-types, the most kind and generous persons in all of Edinburgh are in trouble and need our help. Douglas Robertson and Jane-Anne the Mr. and Mrs. Claus of 42 Royal Park terrace are being told by the jobs-worths of the city council that they are no longer allowed to hold house concerts in their own house despite the fact that concerts are 1. acoustic, 2. over by 11pm & 3. don't bother residents (in fact, the lady upstairs loves them, and many neighbors attend shows regularly). Let's get together and stick a LUMP OF COAL in their stuck-up stocking by sending off as many emails to them as we can. EMAILS GO TO andrew.burns@edinburgh.gov.uk "subject" ALLOW HOUSE CONCERTS @ 42, with an emphasis on the fact that it is first and foremost a house, and there is absolutely no profit going on, only donations for the musicians (who really need it, because venues don't/can't pay musicians fairly). Please help us tell these drones what the cultural significance of these concerts in your life, how the concerts are special because they are NOT in a formal venue, how your existence would change if they were to stop. ** THANK YOU** in advance for supporting live music, magic and culture- the little things that make life worth living. I'll put in a word with the big man,.. and I don't mean Yah-weh.
