I tend to think of Christmas, indeed about lots of things, in terms of metaphors, or symbols. Of course, there's a ton to choose from when it comes to all the aspects of Christmas, and some are so personally painful I wouldn't want to venture close to them, at all, ever again.
I don't have a tree in the house (hint: I already live in a pine forest
) , but I recall a place where I worked once which had one. Occasionally, a bulb would break, smashing into millions of tiny shards impossible to repair and thus discarded.
I kind of see all of us on here as being like those pieces. Except -- we're repairable, and it's what we're trying to do by hugging each other via the words we put together around our often jangled thoughts about what we've endured and where we can find ways to move forward.
In a way, it's like the Japanese art of kintsugi, where broken pottery is repaired not just to use again; but to make better and way more beautiful than ever.
That's what I see going on here. Yes, the shiny bulb broke; but guess what -- we're here, we're good people, we will pick up the pieces, and each and every one will be transformed into works of enduring beauty.
I guess that's my Christmas wish for everyone who reads this.
