"Every year when the holidays threaten to roll around again, I feel utter dismay. I hope they will miss me. People will start asking “Are you ready for Christmas?” again. I have never known what that means. No, I say now. I will never be ready for Christmas in a world of war. I hope, every year, to find a better answer, or to travel to a Buddhist country for December again, or to find a sweeter sensation to keep me afloat during the horridly counted-down days, the obsessively-worried-about-what-to-give-everyone days. I hope for a way to vote more strongly and loudly for peace, and sense, and responsibility, a way to help people who are barely ready for regular days much less heavily-decorated ones, a way to say — Jesus would just hate the fact that someone spent 2 thousand dollars on cutesy lit-up cottages but can’t pay her own utility bills, or, our absolutely broke country seems to be able to find plenty of money to spend on weapons, and smart people continue to defend war, and so forth. It’s such a sad joke, how everybody abuses Jesus and his so-called birthday when people didn’t even celebrate birthdays in his part of the world. Anyway, good luck with your own sack of hopes. Mine are pretty thin this time of year. And some people think I’m an optimist"
Naomi Shihab Nye
dispatches on everyday life, social and political realities, the cycles of history, the complexities of civil society, political poetry and song and the struggle of being a good citizen whilst resisting corporate hegemony (and having a laugh) from one of the most isolated cities in the world.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Naomi Shihab Nye: Thoughts for Xmas
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1 comment:
Naomi says it for me so well. The current travesty which is Christmas was no doubt founded on a pre-christian mid winter respite feast.
When the freezing darkness and shortage of food were forgotten for a day or so and as a reminder that the spring would come.
We seem to have returned to the dark bitterness of Christmas. As Naomi says nothing to do with peace nor equity around a manger of a child born without any possesions except the most precious the love of his parents. I envy her pilgrimage to a Buddhist country in December.
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