Wanting What We Don't Have

I believe that this week's quote, by 17th century French writer and moralist, Francois de la Rochefoucauld, is advice which, if taken by the world's governments, by all of us, would transform the world for the better. It reads, "Before you ardently desire something, you should check the happiness of the one who already owns it."

We seem to be driven by a base desire for wanting more - more of everything. I have blogged before about the wonderful concept of Enoughness - of recognising that (at least in the West) we already have more than enough of everything. As John Naish wrote, "There is no 'more'. We have to learn to live 'post-more'."

So why this seemingly bottomless desire to have what the other person has? Perhaps if we learned to pause, and to check "the happiness of the one who already owns it", we might realise that actually, they are not that much better off than we are. And, perhaps more importantly, if we only paid attention to what we already have, we would be far more content, far less acquisitive.

It's hard - we live in a world in which the advertising and marketing industries batter our minds ceaselessly - "You need this", "Your life will be incomplete without that", and, worst of all, the more subliminal, nasty message, "Everyone else is having a better time than you are." I am already weary of the wall-to-wall Christmas adverts on Channel 4 - painting a picture of the "perfect Christmas", which is ours for the getting, so long as we lay out our hard-earned cash on X, Y, and Z. Top of my "non-essentials" list this year is a cocktail-making machine (£100 off!!) and the ubiquitous Quooker. 

This year, our immediate family (me, my husband, my son and his partner, and my daughter and her partner) have decided to do a Secret Santa between us, and only get presents for the children. Which we've done in the wider Ellis family for years, thanks to the wisdom of my sister. Because Christmas is (or should be) about giving pleasure, rather than driving ourselves into debt to buy presents they don't really want for people we only see a couple of times a year. We are opting out of the Christmas rat race and concentrating on spending quality time together instead. Which I believe is far more conducive to long-term happiness than that cocktail maker.

On a national level, the "ardent desire" for something is driven by lust for power and land, and fear of the other. But wouldn't it be wonderful if governments said to themselves, "Are we really going to be happier if we destroy the lives of the people of this other nation? Should we stand back a little before jumping into the familiar pattern of violence, and really think about other ways we could improve the qualities of our own lives, here in our country?" 

Which I'm sure are questions which are never, ever asked. Sadly...

Harmony, Love and Happiness

The final quote for 2023 is by the 17th century German poet and dramatist, Andreas Gryphius, who wrote, "Where harmony, love and happiness and firmly combined, there is blessing and pleasure."

And that has been my experience, these past few days. My son and his partner and my two grandsons, plus my daughter and her partner have all been here, and blessing and pleasure definitely happened. Yesterday, my son sent some gorgeous photos of everyone enjoying themselves, opening presents and playing.

I know how very blessed I am, and that this blessedness will not have been experienced by many people this Christmas. Which makes it so important that we remember the words of Howard Thurman, who wrote, 

"When the song of the angels is stilled,

When the star in the sky is gone,

When the kings and princes are home,

When the shepherds are back with their flock,

The work of Christmas begins:

To find the lost,

To heal the broken,

To feed the hungry,

To release the prisoner,

To rebuild the nations,

To bring peace among brothers,

To make music in the heart."

May we all do our utmost to do this in the year to come, remembering that each small good deed has the potential to make a huge difference in the lives of others.

a

Putting the Cheerful and Luminous in the Foreground

Plutarch, the Ancient Greek philosopher and priest, once wrote, "In the soul, as in a painting, one must put the cheerful and luminous in the foreground."

At this time of year, the days are short and the nights are long;  indeed last night was the Winter Solstice - Merry Yule to all those readers who celebrate it. So it is good to have lights of many kinds around us, whether in the form of candles, fire light or many coloured Christmas lights in our towns and cities and on our Christmas trees. As in the beautiful Advent crown in the picture above.

Of course for Christians, Advent is a period of waiting for the celebration of the birth of Jesus, whom they believe is the Light of the World. I find it interesting, how many festivals at this time of year are about light: Hanukkah and Diwali as well as Advent and Christmas.

I love to watch the twinkling lights on my Christmas tree; they never fail to uplift my spirits, being a true reminder of the "cheerful and luminous" that Plutarch talks about. And in our Unitarian churches, chapels and meeting houses, many congregations will be participating in a special Christmas service this coming Sunday, Christmas Eve. One of our most important symbols is the chalice candle, which I have always seen as symbolising the warmth of community, the light of insight, and the heat of our ethics and values.

Even if you are not particularly looking forward to Christmas this year - whether you are grieving, or depressed, or anxious, or lonely - I hope that somewhere, at some time, Christmas lights will lift your spirits too, at least for a little while.

I wish you all a light-filled Christmas and a cheerful and luminous New Year.

The World in Festive Splendour

 The author of this week's quote adds another dimension to it, being Elie Wiesel. Who was, according to Wikipedia, "a Romanian-born American writer, professor, political activist, Nobel laureate and Holocaust survivor."

He wrote, "The world appears in festive splendour to those who look at it without desire."

At this time of year, when we decorate our houses (both inside and outside) and our shops and our streets, the world may indeed seem to have "festive splendour." But I'm not sure that is what Wiesel was talking about. The meaning of his words is much deeper. He seems to be saying that "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" and that if we can detach ourselves from our desires, anything can look beautiful. Whereas, if we cannot detach ourselves from our desires to have other than what we already do, then the most beautiful scene or object may seem tawdry, cheap, not enough. 

So perhaps our challenge this Christmas is to truly appreciate what we have - to look at it with new eyes, so that we can appreciate its "festive splendour", rather than casting envious glances towards the lives of others. If we watch too many TV adverts, with their visions of happy families getting together, silly paper hats on their heads and corny Christmas jumpers stretched across full stomachs or dresses of velvet and glitter, and of tables groaning with delicious food, and our own lives are less than ideal, it can be easy to be seduced into believing that everyone else is better off than we are.

Nevertheless, it is true that these visions are far from the reality for many people As I have written before, Christmas has a darker, largely unacknowledged side. There are many lonely people who simply don't have anyone to share Christmas with, who wouldn't feel like celebrating even if they did. For them, the contrast between their lives and the Christmas projected through the media can exacerbate their feelings of isolation, panic, stress and depression. Christmas becomes a season to be got through somehow, rather than a time of joy and sharing.

So perhaps we should also have these people in mind, and do our best to make their Christmasses a little better, a little happier, in whatever way we can. Perhaps by making a donation to a food bank, or a charity for the homeless, or taking the time to visit a neighbour whom we know is alone. It doesn't take much to make a positive difference.

Not only for them, but also for us. Because if we can concentrate on the needs and desires of others, it will have a beneficial effect on our own perceptions of this complicated season. 

May your Christmas be full of festive splendour, and may you share your joy with others.

 

The Art of Giving Presents

This week's quotation is by A.A. Milne, author of the Winnie the Pooh books. It reads, "The art of giving presents is to give someone something that they cannot buy." Which reminds me of the episode In which Eeyore has a Birthday and gets Two Presents. Which turn out to be an empty honey jar (Pooh got hungry on the way) and a burst balloon (Piglet tripped up).

Here is the gorgeous E.H. Shepard illustration, which proves A.A. Milne's point beautifully... taken from my own copy of The World of Pooh. Eeyore could have bought some honey, he could have bought a balloon, but he had much more fun playing with the unintended results of his friends' accidents.

The art of giving presents is to give someone something that they cannot buy. Like a hug, or a smile, or the gift of real presence. Or your time... spent doing an errand for someone, or looking after a child to give them a break. Or a coffee to cheer someone up. Presence is far more important than presents.

I've had a gorgeous Christmas and have had some wonderful presents.... but the best thing of all has been spending time with my husband, my son, my daughter and her fiancé. Plus Boxing Day with the extended family.

photo by Henry Richards

And the gift from myself - a week off work, so that I have had time to enjoy the presents I have received. I've spent a considerable amount of time reading, and producing a detailed map of my imaginary world, Veylindre. And watching Christmas programmes and well-loved films with Maz and David. And finishing my latest shawl...

This has been a useful reminder, that there are so many things that money cannot buy, which are more precious than all the roc's eggs in the world.

I wish all my friends and family a very Happy and Blessed 2020, with all the time you need to spend with those you love.

Day of Expectation and Gratitude

Christmas Eve has been a day of expectation and gratitude for me. The house is clean and tidy, the presents are wrapped, and I'm waiting for my daughter and her fiance to arrive. My dearly beloved collected the turkey at 11 am, and has spent the afternoon cooking it, and the kedgeree for tomorrow's Christmas breakfast (a Woolley tradition). The house is filled with gorgeous smells and I am so grateful.

I've spent the day working on a blanket for the Summer School Silent Auction next year - it's now five feet across, so I've just got another foot to go. Crocheted with love - I hope it raises a shedload of money for the Summer School Bursary Fund.

Early this evening, I phoned my god-mother, now in her nineties, who had a fall last week, and is spending Christmas in hospital. It was good to hear her voice, and I think she was pleased to hear from me. I am so grateful to the hospital staff, who give up their own Christmases to look after the sick and the injured. Bless them, every one of them.

At ten past eight, they arrived. Our little family is now complete. I am riding on a tide of gratitude and happiness. We watched Celebrity University Challenge, cheering when we got an answer right (more often than usual - the Celebrity version is much easier than the regular one!)

I wish everyone who reads this blog a very Merry Christmas and a Peaceful and Happy New Year.

Mixed Feelings

Yesterday I took the cards down. I un-decorated the tree, and put all the decorations back in their boxes for another year. Then dismantled the tree, and put it back in its box. Then hoovered the floor and dusted and tidied the room.

Back to normal.

On the one hand, this makes me sad. I love looking at our tree so much, with the decorations lovingly built up over the years, and the bright lights twinkling. And at our beautiful hand-carved nativity set, bought 27 years ago in Oberammergau. It has been lovely to catch up with friends and family, either in person, or via the annual Christmas card. It always makes me feel bad, recycling all those loving wishes. But they were read, and appreciated, and brightened up our lives.

But on the other hand, part of me is relieved. Christmas is over, another New Year has been welcomed in, full of hints and promises. I have another chance to learn new things, to make new friends, to appreciate old friends, and to recognise God everywhere.

Spirit of Life and Love,
Another Christmas is over,
Another New Year marked.
May 2018 be a good year
For me, and for all
Those I love,
And for the world.
Amen

Both / And, not Either / Or

There is a very neat meme doing the rounds on Facebook at the moment, which sums up the two Spirits of Christmas for me. It is a Christmas Bucket List, with six items, partly crossed out, and substituted with other words, so I'll have to paraphrase for it to make sense:

1. Instead of buying presents, be present.
2. Instead of wrap gifts, wrap someone in a hug.
3. Instead of send gifts, send love.
4. Instead of shop for food, donate food.
5. Instead of make cookies, make memories.
6. Instead of see the light, be the Light.

And yes, I get it, but in my opinion, it should be both/and, rather than either/or. I have bought presents for the people I love, but welcome the reminder to be present in the moment, day by day, instead of getting lost in the busyness. I will be wrapping the gifts I have bought this weekend, but will also be wrapping a lot of people in hugs, during the next few weeks (and being wrapped in hugs also, I hope!)

I will be sending gifts, but also sending love to all those people who make my life so blessed. Including you. I will be shopping for food, and have already paid a visit to the Northampton Food Bank with a donation. This Christmas, sadly, I won't be making or eating cookies, or mince pies or many other sweet Christmas treats, because most of them contain gluten, but I will surely be making memories, particularly on Boxing Day, when the whole extended Ellis family gets together at my parents, for what my mother insists on calling Christmas Day Two. And a very kind friend, who is also gluten-intolerant, has made me a beautiful little GF Christmas cake - so very lovely of her. Finally, as well as seeing (and enjoying) all the beautiful, colourful Christmas lights, I will be striving to be the Light for those I love.

It was a good reminder about the things which really matter at Christmas - not the tangible things that one can buy, and consume, but the gifts of love and awareness, which cannot be bought and always renew themselves. The things we can look back on with fondness, when the food has been eaten, the presents have been opened, the paper recycled, and the decorations taken down.

I also want to acknowledge what I think should be the true spirit of Christmas, "the spirit of good will and peace ... [the] spirit that bids us renew our hopes amid the gathering darkness, that kindles our generosity and our concerns, that attunes our ears to the ever-renewed angelic chorus" as Max Gaeble puts it. Because that is here too, in our minds, and in our hearts.

Wishing you a peaceful, blessed, and mindful Christmas.

An Early Christmas Present

I know how very lucky I am, in that my other half is responsible for the main Christmas meal. And, taking after my side of the family, we have the turkey cold, and it is cooked on Christmas Eve. This for two reasons a) it makes life so much easier on the day and, more importantly, b) it tastes so much nicer. Or that's what I think.

But the early Christmas present I'm talking about isn't that. He was listening to a new three-CD collection of Christmas carols as he started to prepare the turkey for the oven, and I was sitting in the kitchen eating my lunch. To be suddenly stopped in my tracks by CD2, track 12, Star in the South. 

Not one of the regular carols or Christmas songs, which get played endlessly every Christmas. This one is so special to me, as I had learned it in Junior Choir in my secondary school, over forty years ago, and hadn't heard it since. I could remember the words to the first two verses, but had forgotten the title, so was unable to find it. And there it was! And now I can listen to it whenever I please!

This has given me a ridiculous amount of pleasure, out of all proportion to the event. And I feel so blessed that I *can* be made so happy, by something so immaterial and incidental. As the last-minute shoppers desperately try to find the final Christmas presents, or strip the supermarket shelves of sprouts and parsnips, cranberry sauce and Christmas puddings, I am sitting here contentedly, listening to "my" carol.

Life is good! I wish all readers of my blog (for whom I am truly grateful), a very Merry Christmas or Yule or Happy Holidays, and a very Peaceful and Blessed New Year.

My Unitarian Christmas

A couple of weeks ago, I posed the following question to the members of my congregation's Discussion Group: "If Unitarians believe that Jesus was a first century Jewish prophet, who was completely human, but who had a very important message to share with humankind, why do we celebrate Christmas, which is all about his miraculous birth?"

And a while ago, I had an e-mail discussion with a friend of mine, who was lamenting the secularisation of society in this country. He wrote: "We are in danger of losing the communal memory of Christian myths, the Christian rhythm of the week, and the Christian cycle of the year. These are valuable in themselves, whatever meaning we attach to them. They have not been replaced by alternative in our secular society."

This rang very deep bells with me. I was brought up in the Christian mainstream at a little primary school, and sand all the C of E hymns and followed the rhythm of the Christian year. They are a part of who I am, a part of my deepest life. So when Christmas comes round, I love to attend a Carol Service, and sing the carols with gusto (while mentally exclaiming at the message of some of them, I must admit!). Yesterday afternoon, I drove to Warwick to join in the Carol Service at Warwick Unitarian Chapel, which was really lovely. The sense of Christmas community was palpable.

Warwick Unitarian chapel

Is this hypocritical of me? If I don't believe that Jesus was the unique Son of God, should I celebrate Christmas, which is all about such unlikely elements as God becoming man, and a virgin birth? But as a cultural Christian, I am still moved by the age-old story, even though I know in my head that it is mythical, and conflated from the stories in the two gospels. My heart still responds to it.

My answer, as a Unitarian, is that the Christmas I care about is more to do with the message of "peace on earth and goodwill to all men" (and women, of course). I truly believe that the message that Jesus preached - love God, love your neighbour, and don't forget to love yourself - is a crucially important one in this mad world of ours. If Christmas reminds people of this great truth, which is common to all religions, then I'm all for it.

So let us celebrate Christmas as a time when the universally applicable message of love and peace and goodwill to all is brought to the front of people's minds, and our bit of the world grows a little bit more charitable, and a little bit more kindly.

Merry Christmas!

Silent Night, Holy Truce

Today I, and other ministers and worship leaders across the country, will be leading a Christmas service with a difference. I will be commemorating that special day in 1914, when ordinary soldiers at the Front "all the way from the North Sea to Switzerland" decided that their common humanity, their common Christianity, was more important than continuing to fight each other.

The Martin Luther King Peace Committee sent round a marvellous resource pack, entitled Silent Night, Holy Truce, from which I have obtained most of the material for the service. And I would like to share some words from this, and to reflect on them:

"Although the most famous, the Christmas truces weren't isolated incidents. They followed weeks of unofficial fraternisation by soldiers who discovered that, rather than being monsters, the other side were men like themselves, with a preference for staying alive rather than dying. Common humanity oftentimes broke through the propaganda images perpetrated by both sides. Throughout the entire war, many combatants managed, through the so-called 'live-and-let-live' system, to reduce discomfort and risk by complicated local truces and tacit understandings that enraged the high commands on both sides. Nonetheless, the truces are a key moment in the history of the period that reopened the possibility of a Europe based on peace and solidarity rather than imperial violence and nationalism.

We argue that the impromptu Christmas worship services held in no-man's land offer a glimpse of the church as it is meant to be, a new nation of peacemakers uniting former enemies in love and friendship as they celebrate the birth of Jesus."

And we Unitarians today can witness for peace too. Many individuals and congregations are members of the Unitarian Peace Fellowship, founded in the darkest days of the First World War. Members of the UPF "witness for peace and against the futility of war. Today our vision includes the ethos and values of the Charter for Compassion. The surest route to peace is through the compassion of human beings for each other, and for all living things. We support and encourage Unitarians in their witness for Peace and Compassion, locally, nationally, and internationally."

In this year of the centenary of the "war to end all wars", various countries around the world are in a state of bitter conflict with each other, or with themselves. The recent tragic massacre in Peshawar is just the most recent example of this. The efforts of everyone who believes in the possibility of world peace are needed, now more than ever. So that the sacrifice that the men in the Great War made, should not be altogether wasted.

I wish you a very Merry Christmas, and a Happy and Peaceful New Year.

Christmas Reflection - Winter 1947

I am honoured to post an editorial written by my grandfather, Alec R. Ellis, editor of the Martins Bank Magazine, and a member of Ullet Road Unitarian Church. It originally appeared in the Winter of 1947.

There is something about Christmas, some strange power for good, some mysterious spirit which gets abroad. When it is there, the tinsel and cotton wool snow in the shop windows look bright and sparkling; the week after, when the spirit has gone, the decorations look drab and tawdry. Or is it that we see them with different eyes?

On Christmas Eve, there is an air of cheerfulness and goodwill about the office, a sense of pleasurable anticipation felt by everyone. We hurry to get through our appointed tasks so that we can leave early. Some of us are going to have a memorable time, for Christmas is a time of reunion, the festival of the children and the family, when every member who can possibly do so joins the family circle.

But when Christmas is over you will find, if you inquire, that most of your colleagues have had a quiet time and have done nothing special. The young ones will have had their round of parties and merrymaking, but the older ones will have remained by their own firesides. Why, then, the keen anticipation, the gladness that Christmas is here again, when in actual practice it seems merely to be a welcome breathing space between the deposit and the current account balances?

In these days of the popular quiz, if we were to ask the question as to what is the most powerful thing in the world, someone would probably instance the atom bomb. We venture to think that few would suggest a child's cradle. Yet the thought of a child's cradle silenced the guns on the Christmas days in the first world war, and grounded the bombers in the recent war. In a world torn by hate and dominated by fear, something in the heart of man has never failed to respond to the symbolism of the cradle. Therein lies our hope for the future......

So on Christmas Eve, as we wish each other the old, old wish, let us leave the cares of the world and our workaday lives behind us for a few hours, and in the friendly light and warmth of our own homes close the door on all else. With our loved ones around us, and the echo of happy laughter in our ears, let us remember that there is something special about Christmas, something which stirs our deepest feelings and accounts for our keen anticipation of the Christmas season. Phillips Brook summed it up for us in these beautiful lines: "O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie! Above thy deep and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by; yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting light; the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight."

The Gift of Wonder

At this time of the year, I can end up feeling distinctly un-Christmassy. Positively bah-humbuggerish, in fact. As I have written elsewhere: "By the time December comes, we will be blatting around like the proverbial blue-bottomed flies, buying presents, sending cards, ordering turkeys and making the hearts of the supermarket shareholders glad by spending our hard-earned cash on excessive amounts of food and drink to see us through the festive season. Then, when Christmas Day has come and gone, many of us will end us with post-Christmas indigestion - too much food, too much drink, too much everything."

When I am doing the weekly food shop, the commercial over-kill of Christmas is only too apparent. The supermarket shelves are groaning with "seasonal" goodies, most of which have either too much sugar or too much fat in them. Not to mention the booze, which of course I have forsworn this year, and which is on offer on every aisle-end.

image: archive.aweber.com

So it was a particularly welcome gift this morning, to spot a toddler in a pushchair, gazing up at the Christmas decorations that festooned the supermarket ceiling, with a rapt expression of wonder on his face. I pointed this out to his Mum, and it made her day too. Of course, to him, it is all new and wonderful and wonder-full. I was so grateful for the reminder of what Christmas really is about - not the food and the drink and the presents, but the joy and the sharing and the sense of wonder at the birth of a child. And I share a reflection which I wrote some years ago, for times such as these:

Let us take a moment to appreciate all the good things in our lives; our comfortable homes our many possessions, which make our lives easy and secure.

But more importantly, the blessings that money cannot buy:
the love of families;
the companionship of our friends;
this beloved community of freedom and trust;
the beauties of nature;
our bodies - those complex systems that work in such mysterious ways;
our health;
the very air that we breathe.

Help us to realise how rich we are already, and help us to ask the question "do I need this?" rather than "do I want this?" in relation to everything.

Help us to realise that true happiness lies in wanting what you have. And in a sense of wonder.

Amen

 

 

 

 

 

The True Meaning of Christmas

Yesterday a beautiful card came in the post from a fellow Unitarian. He had bought it from the Fellowship of Reconciliation, and the words really hit home:

"When the song of the angels is stilled,

When the star in the sky is gone,

When the kings and princes are home,

When the shepherds are back with their flocks,

The work of Christmas begins:

To find the lost,

To heal the broken,

To feed the hungry,

To release the prisoner,

To rebuild the nations,

To bring peace among people,

To make music in the heart."

 

 

The words are by Howard Thurman, an African-American minister, civil rights activist and author, who in his time met Gandhi and influenced Martin Luther King Jr and other leaders of the Civil Rights Movement.

 

 

 

In the midst of all the glitter and tinsel, over-indulgence and commercialism that is popular Christmas today, I am going to carry the inspiration of these words with me, and try to act on them.

The Dark Is Rising

Like most people, our family has many Christmas traditions. Some of them go back forever, and some are more recent.

One thing that I always do at this time of year is to get out my battered copy of Susan Cooper's book The Dark Is Rising, and re-read it once more. All the action is set between Christmas Eve and Twelfth Night, and it really sets me up for the festive season. It is a beautifully written fantasy about the long struggle between the Old Ones of the Light and the Lords of the Dark, on which hangs the fate of our human world. The King Arthur legend gets mixed up in it too - the oldest of the Old Ones is Merriman Lyon (Merlin) and the hero of the books, Will Stanton, ultimately comes to serve Arthur's son, Bran. There are five books in the sequence, but The Dark Is Rising is my favourite.

There is a wonderful description of the magic of Christmas in the book, which reminds me of my own childhood Christmasses, which we have tried to re-create for our own children:

"Christmas Eve. It was the day when the delight of Christmas really took fire in the Stanton family. Hints and glimmerings and promises of special things, which had flashed in and out of life for weeks before, now suddenly blossomed into a constant glad expectancy. The house was full of wonderful baking smells from the kitchen, in a corner of which Gwen could be found putting the final touches to the icing of the Christmas cake. Her mother had made the cake three weeks before; the Christmas pudding, three months before that. Ageless, familiar Christmas music permeated the house whenever anyone turned on the radio. The television set was never turned on at all; it had become, for this season, an irrelevance."

Later on in the day, they decorate the Christmas tree: "Out of the boxes came all the familiar decorations that would turn the life of the family into a festival for twelve nights and days: the golden-haired figure for the top of the tree; the strings of jewel-coloured lights. Then there were the fragile glass Christmas-tree balls, lovingly preserved for years. Half-spheres whorled like red and gold-green seashells, slender glass spears, spider-webs of silvery glass threads and beads; on the dark limbs of the tree they hung and gently turned, shimmering.
There were other treasures, then. Little gold stars and circles of plaited straw; swinging silver-paper bells. Next, a medley of decorations made by assorted Stanton children, ranging from Will's infant pipe-cleaner reindeer to a beautiful filigree cross that Max had fashioned out of copper wire in his first year at art school. Then there were strings of tinsel to be draped across any space, and then the box was empty."

The whole book is beautifully written, and very exciting. In the end, of course, Will Stanton, the Sign-seeker, achieves the first part of his quest, and the rest of the story unfolds in the next three books. The central theme is the fact that the forces of the Dark are preparing for a second great rising, and the Old Ones of the Light must prevent it from happening. It is a battle between good and evil, in the most fundamental way. In a later book, The Grey King, one of the human protagonists, John Rowlands, comments:

"Those men who know anything at all about the Light also know that there is a fierceness to its power, like the bare sword of the law, or the white burning of the sun. At the very heart, that is. Other things, like humanity, and mercy, and charity, that most good men hold more precious than all else, they do not come first for the Light. Oh, sometimes they are there; often, indeed. But in the very long run the concern of you people is with the absolute good, ahead of everything else. ... At the centre of the Light there is a cold white flame, just as at the centre of the Dark there is a great black pit bottomless as the Universe."

We, unlike the Old Ones, are fully human. So we must be concerned with humanity and mercy and charity and compassion, for they are the true meaning of Christmas.

Wishing you every happiness this Christmas, and for the coming year.