Christmas, that snippet of time when the mass majority of the world is busy being themselves, not focusing on work, not trying to be something they think they must be. Tools are downed, and merriment commences. That or the obligatory family feud, ruining the festivities like wine on the new carpet.
We all have good intentions as the New Year comes around again. We all see the world our way, we all want it to be a little fairer to us. We are all the sum of our parts and experiences. Our environments infect us but, in these brief pauses of time, we are allowed to make sure they do not rule us. Take a breath to remember why we are the way we are, why we want to be the person we aim to be.
We all know that the magic can only happen if you believe, because you cannot buy “belief” you have to create it. In your head be it. (Yes, in not on.)
It’s so much easier to buy than make. It’s so much easier to grab off the shelf than it is to create. Time is money after all. Time is love.
Love isn’t something you can buy. It’s magic. Excitement, the emotion, the laughter, the tears, the rage, the pain, the hope. Trust. It all boils up from that little bit of magic, that time spent together.
Dreams aren’t something you can buy either. Yes, marketing man and lady, lovely and important though you are, you do your very best to sell us our dreams, to distract us and set us chasing bank balances.
Don’t chase love, don’t stare suspiciously at the magic, the science you don’t understand. Don’t avoid life because your too busy working toward your manufactured dream. Worry about the real stuff, that’s what dreams are made of.
I was reminded of this thanks to my family, this year. Santa is real. Don’t worry, I’ll apply that to writing in all its weirdly metaphorical possibilities.