Onward come the holidays of year-end. I have little use for acknowledging the importance of these days and do not publicly announce my own warmth for them.
I would as soon turn a tale of hunting Santa Claus and his eight tiny reindeer as I would relate memories of gleeful anticipation and a rose-colored childhood. Neither of which are based in the truth of anything that I’ve experienced.
We all have ideals and dreams that vastly differ from the reality of commercialism and the shallow facade of any peace on this earth. In the end of all things we see what it is that we wish to see. We translate events from a filter installed by all those that have come before us and yet even through this jaded consciousness we maintain a tenuous connection to a truth that leads us blindly to hope.