In the bleak midwinter, Yule / Christmas / light festivals / Hanukkah (I’ll use Christmas as a shorthand for winter solstice fest) serves as a guide-light/lamp-post* to draw our anticipation and hope for the future towards the black hole of the year and through into the second half of the gloom with its dawn on the horizon and the possibility of new possibilities. So it’s more obvious in winter that the forced cheer of Christmas is our communal defence against the dark.
(*I was going to say it’s like a lighthouse, but actually you definitely don’t use the light of a lighthouse to steer directly towards.)
In Australia, laying the traditions of Christmas into the sunshine and heat of midsummer can lead to a sort of doubled vision; the ritual focus on cheer and communality drags the darkness out of the corners in an odd way - because of them we summon their opposite, and are reminded to miss people, to be melancholy, to feel scarcity in the season of abundance through the process of doing the rituals of abundance-in-the-face-of-scarcity.
Mum didn’t care much about Christmas, but it was always a family time, running from her birthday on the 28 Nov to our birthday on 7 Jan. so I miss her and think of her at this time of year. I had a friend who loved Christmas. I was always the not-bothered one, carried half reluctantly along by the tide of cheer. Last Christmas was his last Christmas. I think of him at this season and it makes me try a little harder to be Christmassy. Estranged family who I never miss, I miss the memory of them at Christmas, and the feeling that Christmas should be in the shape of them.
The joy of sharing Christmas with Laser Fraser is pretty great though, and I made a pavlova. Nothing fends off the chill specter of loneliness and mortality like a pavlova.
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Tim Parsons
2022-12-27 09:31:54 +0000 UTCRichard Bennett
2022-12-25 13:00:35 +0000 UTCGavin McKeown
2022-12-25 02:04:38 +0000 UTC