How did the Christmas season treat you? Mine was all over the place. So I’m sitting here reflecting while listening to Sandi Patti: In The Name Of The Lord. On repeat of course. It’s one of those songs you never get enough of. I remember a time in Church history when you proved your worth as a singer by mastering songs like these. The congregation would be on the edge of their seats waiting for you to ‘buss’ the note. If you didn’t you were rewarded with thunderous applause. Which meant you speared them the disappointment and they were grateful. Back to Christmas. I had a few rounds to make and decided to do them in the same day. My driver had a falling out with his wife and was very disappointed that he did not get to play Santa. Said he was not allowed to go down her chimney. He picked me up at 6am sharp and off to the South land we went, heading East. He was quiet. Guess he did not get his morning coffee. I asked what’s up. He started laughing. I asked again. He said he was thinking to stop the car in the middle of the highway and make love to me because I looked special. I asked if he had his coffee. No. Just as I thought. There is a vulture inside me that would eat him raw, but due to the time of the morning it was asleep. So I mused on how preventing a man from playing Santa Claus, and allowing him to leave home without his regular gulp of coffee could make him vulnerable. Wives please, don’t create opportunities for me.
We ended up doing a Manzanilla/Mayaro drive as he was using the opportunity to see firsthand what destruction the sea had caused there. It is always remarkable how man has no defense against the elements. The water did not come in with high waves measuring several metres. It was more like an intimate relationship between the water and the earth, with the earth welcoming the water saying: come into my parlour. And the water eagerly followed, and loved what it saw, and it hung around a while. And the earth loved what it felt, and opened up more intimate parts so that the water could go down into them. And while they were romancing, the newscasts were busy using the word: disaster. What disaster? Imagine how shocked the elements must be at our descriptions of their activities. Everyone deserves a change of scenery. In time, the water went back out to sea. The earth invites the water on a little vacation and we complain of the tedious reparation to be done. When we take vacations and make a mess of the earth we don’t hear it complain. How could it? It has no voice. Or so we tell ourselves. It could be argued that the people who experienced the disaster did not deserve it. We’ll never know the whole story. But in defense of nature, it was impersonally dealing with humans, or maybe it was doing its thing and humans were in the way. Sorry to the wrongfully afflicted, and may the rest of us get our act together. Be respectful of the ground under your feet for it can, by itself or with the help of its counterparts, make your days hell.
Earlier, the driver had stopped in Sangre Grande to buy gas and disappeared for a while. When he returned he had a bag of preserved mangoes. After a few pieces his blood sugar was up and his brain was happy. He initiated conversation…about Christmas. He decried the decorations, the shopping, the baby annoyed him especially. The baby that remains a baby each year. When will he grow up? When will people awake to the fact that neither his parents nor his disciples celebrated his birthday? What prevents them from realizing that this is the coldest time of the year and no mother in her right mind would undertake such a long trip in the last trimester, let alone keep her newborn out in a barn in hay. Hay can’t keep a baby warm in winter, the cold would be merciless to him. As a man, angel say or not, he would not have embarked on such a journey with his wife. I think God is sometimes saddened that the sense of reason he has allowed us, blinds us. If God is God, Creator of all things, can He not modify temperature to suit a baby’s needs? Remember that pillar of fire and cloud that was provided in the wilderness for hardback people? So what about a baby? I told him it is common for a selected empowered few to decide when what is celebrated and the masses respect that because it is about personal significance. Once the individual can decide on its meaning to him/her, then the celebration is on.
Look at me… Christmas Day came and went with no sign of it in my home, but I appreciate the change in landscape that comes with everyone else beautifying their corner. And he definitely appreciates the increased income he gets. He does not say Christmas is nonsense and stays in bed until it passes. He is well booked by customers who need a taxi from here to there. Our trip had to be negotiated, and renegotiated, how he was busy. I mentioned the ‘fairy’ lights, and the Christmas tree. The elementals who take care of trees are made of light – some say angels, others say fairies, but the little lights buzz back and forth doing their work. Is it coincidental that the little lights we put on the Christmas tree are called fairy lights? There are so many spiritual things about every moment, every celebration, that stare us in the face yet we never notice. That concerns me. Clearly we are unconscious, like Adam, sleeping when his wife is taken from him, sleeping while she is at that other tree trying to know things he did not care to inquire into. Jeez! Wake up man! The woman is out of your clutches. Or like Sampson, sleeping during his haircut. Could not have been a good haircut, which explains his horror when he awoke, or when he looked at himself in the mirror of his consciousness. Yeah, that’s us alright. When we awake to our pitiful state, we are traumatized and we faint, i.e. go back to sleep rather than deal with ourselves. Meanwhile, major changes happen while we’re asleep. So while I don’t appear to celebrate Christmas, I endorse it for several reasons because to me it is a wake-up call. Literally.
There is the concept that the Christmas tree is reflective of the Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden. Lights speak of consciousness, so all festivals of lights should be honored. If everything on the outside is within, then we are in essence suggesting that we have within ourselves returned to the place of perfection/Eden where our consciousness is illuminated and we are able to commune with our Creator face to face. We are atoned – at one with ourselves and God. And in our homes, as all are gathered around the tree, it is out of that oneness we give gifts. They are taken from under the tree, but in the Garden of Eden they would have been picked from the branches of the Tree of Life. So our actions symbolize that we are giving each other the fruits of consciousness. Truly, some of the gifts we give can in no way enhance the consciousness of the receiver, but we give it anyway telling ourselves it is what they wanted rather than seeing that we have an obligation to give proper fruits. For when we give conscious gifts we stir the receiver into remembering their true nature of oneness. In the moment of the gift exchange we don’t feel separation, but reparation. For a moment we realize that our enemies are really inner-me’s – disliked aspects of ourselves projected. If we hang onto the moment long enough we can experience a dis-embodied consciousness of our unity that reveals our impersonal existence, we are everything and everything is us. And we can laugh at our ignorance of limiting ourselves to our physical cloaks.
Turning on the lights on our inner trees will transform us. It will make us purpose-driven and thrifty with time. Conscious people get much done in little time. They are curiously empowered and succeed without apparent effort. But empowerment makes us a danger to those who have an interest in keeping us subjected. It impedes their (temporal) power over us, for if we awaken to who we are and live lives of success such will remind them of how they have failed. So we are kept distracted with the wide variety of things, things that facilitate the production or consumption of material goods, engage our senses. Things that depreciate our awareness that the light which was, still is accessible and can be turned on, or better yet, that we are light. Won’t it be nice if the Christmas tree package contained a brochure on how to meditate on the tree within after lighting our Christmas tree, or if upon lighting the tree we experience a ripping away of our filtering mechanism and find ourselves immersed in light and oneness? Isn’t the Christ energy one of unity? So this annual birthing of a baby called Chirst/Love/Unity has its place, and whether we act in ignorance or knowledge, the collective investment of millions of people in prayer, cleaning, and acts kindness in this one moment helps to raise the consciousness of humanity. For that elevation, my heart celebrates, as I too feel atoned and more prepared to deal with the future. Yes, I’m here…on the edge of 2014 with a view of 2015…contemplating what things might come, and that I might need a miracle to accomplish all that I envisage.
Thoughts of the future come with their share of anxiety as there are things we are not ready to face, bridges we are not ready to cross, but they are still coming, and our busy-ness might keep us distracted, but it does not delay them. So why not consciously imagine the bridge in an effort to mentally prepare ourselves? Look at it in our minds and see whether it is rickety or sturdy, wide or narrow, etc. Try to glimpse the other side to which it leads. What is beyond the bridge? Are there friendly faces, trees, buildings, or is it a sandy shoreline with boulders for miles? And what are the exact coordinates for the spot on which my miracle dwells? Ah! I see it! Yes, my miracle. But it appears to be…enveloped. Why? Oh, that’s how it should be. For miracles seldom happen in an instant. They are incubated mentally long before they appear in our material world. Even the Christ child was not born in an instant, but experienced a period of incubation. So too our miracles are enveloped in our thoughts of them. Let’s diligently work on our miracles. Find something that is worth focusing on, and maintain that focus until it is hatched. It might be sooner or later than expected, but once we do our part our miracle will be birthed. Someone said: we are told not to cross the bridge until we come to it, but this world is owned by those who crossed bridges in their imaginations far ahead of the crowd. Now, ain’t that something? All the best for the New Year.
Oh, the driver! You don’t seriously think he listened to all that. He turned the radio to 107.7 FM and bobbed around in his seat to the music. Christ didn’t celebrate His birthday, and if Christians are Disciples of Christ, then they should do as he did. Talk done. I’m fine with that. The main thing is that I accomplished my mission. I got to visit three homes: one lady was cleaning up for New Years since she is not into Christmas, the other lady was in her garden picking Shadow Beni with one hand because the other one was bandaged, and the third lady was in her hammock near a table on which several bottles of alcohol sat begging to be used. There was a lot of hugging and laughing while consuming freshly made sorrel drink that had me peeing on the roadside on the way back. The return trip took us west. I was never sure where I was. I saw a new Police Station at Brasso Passo or something like that, and later I saw a sign saying Longdenville, so I knew we came through Chaguanas. I was not drunk, just being a passenger. The driver is the one who needs to be focused. I arrived home with a car trunk of goods like a market woman. The driver took his portion and reminded me that I still owed him; full payment entailed me making him payme/conkie. Tis still the season of Good Will and I do have the ingredients, so maybe…he’ll get paid.