Every holiday we seem to be assaulted to remember “true meaning.” Patriotism, religion, whatever. But the true meaning of any day really is exactly what it is _ not its magical or historic baggage. A holiday sharpens that perception.
For example, Christmas and New Year, the end of year holiday in the northern hemisphere. Truly reflective of life, from Neolithic times when the long memory began to have meaning, marking solstice and the gradual return of the sun. Celebrating survival of another yearly cycle. Enjoying companions present. Remembering those departed.
Several thousand years of monotheistic religions have piled wooly mythology onto this ritual. With the vast uncertainties in the world today, a lot of Americans, in particular, find such stories easy and comforting and a useful guide for life.
But, “true meaning” is that this holiday is a celebration of life and family. Another trip around the sun, another cycle of seasons. Back where we began 365 days ago, much the same but different _ we are at least older, sometimes unrecognizable.
It is the proper time to be nostalgic and grateful and a little more aware of family and friends. Tempered by the frantic rush and sometime anger at what did not work out as planned. That depth of feeling is also “true meaning.”
Forget the media and political sloganizing. Time to embrace the cold, look to the future, appreciate the present, and give thanks for this instant of miracle of existence. And prepare for another cycle, which is never quite a cycle.
HuntingtonHarborThoughts 