It’s that time of year. Giving and receiving. Returning and repurchasing. Finding time to get together with family and friends. Spreading good cheer and love…And STRESS! This week, I’m pondering the phrase, “Merry Christmas,” which as we all know has caused a lot of controversy in schools, in our everyday interactions, and Starbucks coffee cups! Oh, the horror. But seriously, I ask you, and I don’t mean this to turn contentious, what is your feeling on using the phrase? Do you still use it? Do you feel political correctness has gone too far? Or are many of us being short-sighted and not empathetic enough, thinking only of our narrow existence? Is changing, “Merry Christmas” to “Happy Holidays” really that strenuous? If it includes more people in this feeling of good cheer and love I mention above, is there harm in changing a few words with the same message? I’ve thought about this myself. Being an educator, I must continually think about the words I use. How I make people feel. I care about that stuff. I want every student sitting in my classroom to feel accepted. To feel understood. To not feel ostracized to the best of my ability. That they matter. That their voices matter. I have differing races, sexual orientations, socio-economic backgrounds, learning levels…in short, I have a cross-section of America and an international world. It is a microcosm of the world we live in. It extends well outside of my classroom. It extends to all of us, in the US or globally at large. Over the course of several years, I’ve used both phrases. I used to be very careful to only use “Happy Holidays.” I felt it was important. Not everyone is Christian or celebrates Christmas. Many of my colleagues are Jewish or hold other beliefs, and I’ve been schooled one too many times not to realize I’m assuming a helluva lot when I say: “Merry Christmas.” But here’s the thing for me. And I may change my mind again. Who knows! But to me, the phrase isn’t about Christ at all, believe it or not, even though that’s the root of the word. Let’s face it. Christmas has become less and less about “Jesus,” the figure and person, than it is about a “feeling” and a state of mind in its purest sense. (And to some, it’s only about presents and that’ the most troubling of all.) Most of us realize the date has nothing to do with any real birthday, that it fit the timeline of the clashing paganism of the time. The whole thing is fabricated. Come on! Right? For those who still believe, that is fine and wonderful too. Let it be. I have Christian values in my heart but without the institution of religion. In fact, I don’t believe in a traditional god in any way. (You should all know that by now!). And I am not offended when someone says, “Merry Christmas” to me, even though I am not a practicing “Christian.” I understand that isn’t the issue anyway. That what offends me isn’t in question necessarily, but that it MAY offend someone else. And if I care about other people, I should care about whether or not I offend them. It’s that simple for me. Just because it doesn’t offend me, doesn’t mean that is the end of it. That, frankly, is selfish and egocentric. So when I continue with my thoughts below, I’m not being insensitive to the reasons behind the controversy. I have come to take a side on this, even if not popular. When I say, “Merry Christmas,” I look at it as my language of saying: Goodness to you. Happiness to you and your family. Prosperity and luck and love. It means all those things to me. If someone says a phrase in their language to me, a simple hello or thank you or best to you or anything that is a term of good will, I accept it as just that. Their way of saying: “I wish you well” or “I want happiness for you.”
There are many languages and many ways to speak to people. Just because I may not practice or know their language, I gladly accept and understand it’s simply an extension of who they are. Therefore, while I do understand where the animosity stems from, I have chosen to bring Merry Christmas back into my lexicon. Because to me, I wish nothing but the best, heartfelt wishes of health and happiness to those around me, and that is the way I choose to say it to people this time of year. Any phrase that is a term of good will and love, shouldn’t be censored. Christmas should not be about presents. Or commercialization. Or greed. And sadly, it seems that is all it has become for many. And that is the only offensive part. So to you all, I say, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, and I hope you understand, that when I say it, I am simply wishing you a season filled with love, that feeling of giving and filling our souls with that which is not about us. And I do hope, you won’t be offended by that. xo
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~Robert Frost We talk of New Year resolutions this time of year, something we use for fresh starts, new outlooks, and perhaps ways to organize our lives, reflect on what is working and what isn’t. No life is perfect, and sometimes it can feel as if it’s spinning out of control. The start of a new year gives us hope. Hope to right the rails, hope to plod through the storm, hope that we will take our lives back. I’m fortunate that I get a long vacation this time of year after the madness peaks and explodes. I am never a rash person. And I never make decisions under duress. Ever. When things settle, so do I, and I think. And this year will be a particularly pensive one, especially when it comes to writing. This year I will rethink my journey. I’ve traveled near and far all at the same time. I’ve written my dark fantasies far removed from my world and I’ve written my autobiographical truths into them. I’ve written sweet romance in distant tales and turbulent ones that mirrored my own past. I’ve taken leaps I never thought I would into new writing territory, some long, some short, and I’ve stayed in the same place with dear friends and goals, honing my skills to be better. And I’ve bled my soul into verse, reaching new depths, publishing a collection, and continually doing so every day, challenging myself to grow, steady on the course. I write because I have to. Make no mistake there. And I’ve said it a million times. But what got me publishing? That. That is what I need to ponder. And I need to ponder it deeply. With Amazon as seemingly the only real avenue these days (yes there are others, less lucrative ways), I must ask myself: Do I want to continue to support a company that puts everyone else out of business? That has arbitrary whims that can destroy years of work in one fell swoop of a sword? That hasn’t just slashed the little man but has slashed large corporations, toy stores and craft stores, leaving only one option: them. We live in a world of greed and instant gratification. Of a I-want-it-now-or-at-least-no-later-than-tomorrow world, and I want it at the cheapest price. And we indies rarely can make it, not truly, not the way we hoped, not the way we need to make it a dream realized. Is it worth it anymore? As many of you know, a tale I’ve cultivated for a couple years now come to fruition, and it was arbitrarily and swiftly torn down. There was a time when I shared my writing for free, where it was read copiously, where I didn’t worry about my “rank” or if it sold, where I actually placed my head on my pillow at night and slept, and where the only reason I wrote was to exorcise my demons, to cut open wounds to bleed to heal. The wounds now almost never stop bleeding. The Band-Aids I’ve used no longer work. So I end this year with some questions to answer, ones only I can do. It’s true. We can only travel one path at a time; we are but one traveler. If I choose to take the one less traveled this time, I, like Frost, doubt I should I ever come back to the other. But as I write this, I ponder that, perhaps, there are more than only two roads, that I just need to see them in the yellow wood. And maybe, just maybe, knowing that, will make all the difference. We live in an age that contradicts itself. Do you notice that? Recycle but not plastic bags. Open your mind but not when it disagrees with my politics. Don't pirate my work but, here, it's all free. And buy books, but save trees. It's a polarizing time to live, and it's also a confusing time. And what is happening to the poet in all of this? Is there any such thing anymore? Has the internet killed the poet? Does anyone BUY poetry? Or are they just cruising the internet, reading what snippets come their way? This discussion has been on my mind lately. and I asked if people still bought poetry books. Do you? Or are poetry books a bit of a thing of the past, that the internet is littered with poetry if you want it, so why buy a damn thing? I buy books. Oh do I buy books. Not like the ones I write much, but nonetheless, I'm constantly reading before I fall asleep at night. Many of my newer books are on my kindle now, yes, because of the environment, but also for its convenience. I used to be against the kindle, until, of course, I actually owned one and could take and read as many books as I wanted at once. But poetry books are the one thing, besides my own, I do not have on my kindle. I own Dickinson and Shakespeare and Cummings and Plath and Whitman and...and...and...all in paperback or hardcover. I read them over and over. Paper books, somehow, are just perfect to plop down in a chair with by the fire to read. One poem or two at a sitting, sipping wine or drinking tea, god, I want to be doing it right now! I have no idea what it is about it that needs to be paper for me when it comes to poetry. Maybe it's because somehow poetry carries with an antiquated sense of romance, perhaps one we fear we are losing with the ubiquitous presence of the internet and technology and the constant barrage of poetry in bite-sizes, quick candies, not to be savored and marked and shared as we once did, but now to be shared in a sentence or two on those damn squares I've bitched about before (and won't do it again. You can read it here: BLOG) as if bumper stickers are poetry. Grab a coffee. Read a line. Breathe out the hot steam of coffee and call yourself a poetry lover. I'm not sure if the internet has killed or is killing the poet or not. There are certainly no shortages of poets out there. I, myself, call myself a poet, never said a great one, but I am a poet nonetheless. Hell, I think everyone has a poet in him/her if I'm being honest, so who I am to say what is and what isn't great poetry. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Instagram squares are the best invention ever made for the writer. I will say this. I think really great poetry gets overshadowed by what has become standard poetry. People want their quick fixes. They don't often want to think or reread poetry or read it aloud. Today, if it's not understood on the first read, someone shouts: "I hate poetry. I don't understand it. I don't get poetry," unless, of course, they find it on Instagram. And the moon is mentioned. Next to the sun. :) Maybe I'm not young anymore. Maybe I need to get with the times. Or maybe, I'll just sit down here at work for a few moments, savor a poem or two, and shut off the internet for a little longer than a flash of a disappearing tweet. |
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I LOVE to write and read. I particularly enjoy reading erotic romance that has tons of emotion in it. I hope you will ask me questions and share your favorite authors and novels. I welcome all feedback.
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