Winter Season Preamble.


I am determined to break pattern. I’ve been in flight or fight for a long time. What exactly does that mean? It means that I’ve been on high, in ratchet gear, ready to launch, or go off the deep end, lol, depending on the situation. It all started way back in childhood.

I was a lonely child, surrounded by siblings, cousins, neighbors, a neighborhood…a lot of neighborhoods. Parents having parties, families going to swim meets, me wandering wood and lane for a good three miles, over and under and in between, alone. A few times I even dared ride my bike swiftly around the general vicinity, via an out skirting curvy road of fresh and cushiony asphalt. My banana seat enabled me to stand and push and lean side to side to get around the open curves with speed. I felt free, but the fear of stranger danger guided me back onto the familiar streets where I lived.

At some point, I became Indoctrinated. Conditioned. Manipulated. Lied to. Fooled.

Gullible me. Tsk.

I was born into patriarchy – of the Roman to Catholic kind – you know – where Saturnalia and the birthday celebration of Christ intersected. As IF that would ever happen naturally. This was coercion and colonization.

So church and school, nuns and flags, confession and marriage – at 9 years-old to The Jesus. Young Jesus Brides. All of us girls were, as modeled for us by the nuns.

What choices did I have?

I had compassion in the example of Jesus to guide me in my conscience, and the sin of some Bam-Bam looking white man and the hairy white chick who gave him a magic apple to remind me that I must not ever look within.

Shhh, Stop! Don’t. Look. Within.

A host of other misogynistic messages were implanted artificially into my brain to ensure that I wouldn’t make it out whole. So, long story short, allow me to own my cultural heritage without stereotyping me. Said no white Irish-English-Dutch-French mutt woman ever. Until now.

I LOVE Winter Season. Absolutely love it. I have holiday decorations my late mom gave me when I was a young child. I have memories of seas of wrapped Christmas gifts – so many that the urge to wrap carefully had gone out the window. But, it didn’t matter. Oh, how I loved the Season. Fresh cut trees, different year after year. Crimson hues. Comforting foods. Slow weeks, probably because the church school was in tune with the church’s Red Letter Feast Days, unlike the hectic lives of public school children who had to follow separate lives for learning, church, and community. Parochial school ebbed and flowed and we always had longer time away from school. I was two grade levels ahead in some areas when I transferred to public school. Didn’t take me long to level out. And get lost.

Anyway, back to the holidays. We have lots of Santa ornaments.

I’m for celebrating a Yule, the kind with fire logs. But, if December 25th isn’t really the DOB of The Jesus, isn’t it rather arbitrary? Who among us can argue?

Why don’t we follow our own calendars instead of letting the state or churches dictate how seasons unfold? What would happen if we did?

My son loves our 12 days count down that we started back when he still believed in Santa. He even has more patience than I do waiting for The Big Day. He relishes in the ongoing excitement, and I’m fond of the decorating and creating of warm spaces. He likes the nostalgia of things he sees only once per year. The idea of an eve is magical. I enjoy the giving, but I’m ready to scale back in life. I’m ready to flow, to let go of this fight or flight. I’m about 10 years too late to avoid some of the pitfalls of waiting too many decades to embrace my own compass. I love the cool and cold months, because they seem to facilitate turning within. That is where I keep returning. My son doesn’t care about Christmas. He embraces the connection created when we reconnect to our past… tradition without all of the dogma.

But, December 25th as a date is of no consequence to us. There is no hard and fast rule that says we have to remain slaves to the date.

If our childhoods define our relationships as proved and illustrated in quantum physics and – and our relationships define our existence (again, quantum truth – #ConnectionsAreEverything) – shouldn’t we honor the Winter Season according to our own prevailing paths, not that of the governments, schools, and religious organizations? Shouldn’t we reboot, keep the cheer, and rewrite the tale?

The basis of Christmas in patriarchy does not fit the vision I hold of whole life evolution. Don’t get me wrong, I want those fall deals that enable us to finance our inner child’s dreams. But, why do we as families allow external institutions to dictate how we live our individual, sovereign lives? A Winter Solstice holds far more allure to me as it ties into nature. Nature mirrors our souls.

What if we were giving and saying Yes to our kids all year instead of waiting to give all year?

What if we were living real life learning by self direction instead of waiting our entire childhoods to start?

Shouldn’t each human be respecting the other in this dimensional aspect of our existence, with acceptance across cultural fabrics for human sovereignty?

Shouldn’t we be lighting fires together and diving into stars and galaxies instead of giving the focus to the myriad piles of external shit that concerns us, mainly because we give into our fears?

In some way or another, we all do. But, it isn’t just fear. We allow many distractions to keep us from our purpose, from our self direction. Diverting our self trust. Making us forget who we are.

What we should be celebrating is the very air we breathe, the very soil we walk upon and the natural elements that emerge from this giant ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey verdant stone. We should be celebrating ourselves as connected beings. We need respect for the natural forces that make our biophysical existence possible, and reach out to know geographic customs and original cultures, blind to arbitrary dogma, boundaries, and maps. Therein lies the oneness supposedly inherent in “Christmas”.

We are evolving beyond our physical differences. Our genetics are like little processors that inform our individual biospheres like computer programs adjusting to code. If that’s not organic, then what is it?

Epigenetics teaches that evolution functions as a dynamic, self informing process, but one far more complex and diverse than we thought imaginable. And AI is not the end game. I see it as a gateway. Don’t hang on to this realm too tightly, nor too stubbornly to your beliefs. There are far more realms of existence beyond our comprehension left to explore, if we allow ourselves to evolve.

There’s a lot more depth that I could add to this post about our responsibility to the greater flow of our existence, but I’m going to go try to live and model that more than I speak about it. Wish me luck. It’s another complex, timey wimey dynamic.

Wish me a Happy Winter, a Glittery Fall, and my good will be yours as you do your own thing.  But, if you’re gonna complain about what’s in the stores, who appropriated cultures on Hallowe’en, or who wished you Happy Holidays, maybe you should check that you’re not on the down escalator or the very conveyor belt that fuels the mania you see. That’s definitely a sure fire way to miss out on the gateway to higher existence. You can call it Heaven if you want, but to me, it’s just another portal with a spectacular view of where we’ve just been to remind us about purpose. Spiral out.

If you get lost, just seek within.


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