Home for Christmas

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Today's entry is from my gay-interest poetry blog archives for December 2015.

As you will all know by now I am not a Christmassy person, but no spoilsport either and will always wish everyone a very Happy Christmas/ New Year, and mean it. 

As a pantheist, I don't celebrate Christmas in any religious sense. As a poet with a strong sense of spirituality - that I take from nature - I enjoy taking stock of my life at this time of year, counting my blessings and glossing over numerous flaws in the status quo.

On Christmas Day, I like to be on my own (yes, really!) strolling down Memory Lane and re-living the GOOD times while allowing myself time to be sad for the bad times. I like to remember those I have loved and lost, again dwelling on happy times together while not attempting to stem any tears.

If I spend Christmas with anyone, I feel obliged to make an effort rather than quietly surrender to any feelings of sadness and let them pass of their own accord.  I am not a sad person. On the contrary, I am a very positive thinking, lively guy. No one, though, can be positive thinking and lively all the time so when I feel sad, I let myself BE sad, and the sadness quickly passes, invariably replaced by happy memories to which the positive thinking, lively, part of me can more easily relate and build upon. Christmas brings many sad memories rushing back; I need to let them rush past me so I can enjoy the many happy memories I have shared with those I may have loved and lost but who sustain me still. 

We hear about families and friends getting back together for Christmas...but poles apart again by New year's Day. Let us never forget that love is not (and never has been) just for Christmas or any other religious festival where it needs to make an appearance. Any love worth having is worth saving, even if that means having to agree to differ with loved ones and accepting that our differences don't make us different, just human...

New Year? Well that's a different story altogether, celebrating a whole twelve months ahead to enjoy with friends and rediscover the true meanings of peace, love, and joie de vivre...

HOME FOR CHRISTMAS 

I’d hear talk of Christmas,
and my heart would sink for memories
of so many lonely Christmases
since love walked out of my life and family
never understood

I’d hear carols at Christmas,
and my heart would skip a beat or two
for recalling happy Christmases
when love took centre-stage in my life,
nothing else mattered

Friends planning for Christmas,
with smiles on their faces for all the fun
of such joyous Christmases
as once I had, and never (quite) abandoned
by fate, chance, love…

Christmas Eve, everyone rushing
for last minute buys, and then back home,
ever hopeful of Christmas
fulfilling its promises of peace and goodwill
around a festive table

Me, I hear talk of Christmas,
and my heart leaps  just for remembering
our conspiring with Christmas,
we total strangers, one starry Christmas Eve
of rediscovering love

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Once Upon a Wiccan Yule

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Today's entry is from my gay-interest poetry blog archives for December 2010.

One Christmas, a reader said he was disappointed that I was posting Christmas poems because 'everyone makes far too much of Christmas.' Ah, but my Christmas poems are more about the food for thought any religious festival gives us, and which applies all year round...or it should.

As for Santa, he may only visit once a year but I well recall a Wiccan man who made every day a time for celebration and thanksgiving for all life is rather than as we might wish it was...

Readers may or may not know that Wicca is a spiritual path originating in Britain that recognizes both a feminine and masculine element to the divine; it believes nature is sacred and should be protected. Apart from protecting the environment Wicca's central theme, called the 'Wiccan Rede' an abbreviation of which is commonly expressed as, 'If it does no harm, do your own will."

Stonehenge at the winter solstice (my birthday)

ONCE UPON A WICCAN YULE

At a time of Yule,

I well recall a Wiccan man
who showed me
how love can save the world
if anything can…
and although he would take me
to his bed
time and time again,
it would only
take a kiss, a hug even
or handshake
to help bring home a sense
of common humanity,
cause for celebration indeed
wherever the cap fits

Anything to dull
the pain I was feeling…
for those worse off
than us, excluded even
from Christmas,
whatever reason (or season)
culture, sexuality,
the darker side of memory
or simply separated
from friends and family,
no fault of their own
(unless but for being human)
since no time of year
can ever truly boast a monopoly
on loneliness

So let’s spare a thought
for the sick,
the lonely, and any cast out
for taking a direction
that doesn’t always follow
a convention;
in truth, the Wiccan man
showed me
it’s love can save the world
and its integrity
so long as its peoples respect
nature and each other,
through good times and bad,
regardless of colour, creed, sex
or sexuality

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007

Counting the Cards OR Who's Missing...?

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I don’t send Christmas cards because I am neither a religious nor ‘Christmassy’ person. I send poems to many people, but most prefer to have a card they can put on the mantel so visitors can count and see how popular they are. It came as no surprise to me, therefore, that when I stopped sending cards. most people stopped sending one to me. After all, you can’t put a poem on the mantel…

Some people tell me I should send Christmas cards anyway (why bother with a poem?) if only to let those who matter to me know I am thinking of them or keep in touch with those I have not seen or had much contact with for a long time. 

Not seen or had much contact with for a long time? Why not seen or had much contact with for a long time…if they matter to us?

Too often I hear people say they have not contacted someone because he or she has not been in touch with them. Well, if they really matter to us, should we not try and find out why…?  A visit, telephone call, letter, email, skype…most of us have the means to get in touch by at least one or other of these means. If we don’t, something is seriously wrong that people to whom we supposedly matter and vice versa need to know about and think through. 

I recently met up with a friend who had just been choosing Christmas cards with great care so each person for whom a card was meant would know a lot of thought had gone onto choosing it. "You have to show you care, don't you?" said my friend adding, "I mean that's what Christmas is all about, isn't it, caring?"  We had been reminiscing about one particular mutual friend  I rarely see  for various reasons but we often chat on the phone and with whom I knew full well did not hear from my caring companion from one Christmas card to the next...

Staying in touch with friends is so important; the occasional phone call or email just to let them know you are thinking of them can make all the difference, especially if that person is ill or having a bad day and close to free fall. Why wait for them to make the first move? Love - in all its various shapes and forms - works both ways, and keeping in touch should not be on the occasional whim or just for Christmas and birthdays...or one day it may be too late.

COUNTING THE CARDS or WHO’S MISSING…?

Festive bells spreading

good news across a sorry Earth,

wringing comfort and joy

from all those needing to believe

in a godly saviour’s birth;

Oh, but let's  reason not the need,

they would have us all
be sure, but keep ourselves snug

by a feisty fire if only to feed heat
and light to despair

Winter solstice passed,

and now it’s the Christian’s turn

to answer questions

on flaws in natural laws exposed

by the origins of religion;

little or no harm done on days
when Apollo joins the fight

to save the heart’s weary cockles

from faltering, till cash for its meter

runs out at dead of night

Early hours, shivering

and demanding answers of a God

inclined to turn a deaf ear

on material demands like how best

to keep out the cold;

where certain spiritual sustenance

always on hand, available
in prayer, even arthritic souls 

obliged to get out of bed, trust they

won’t catch pneumonia

Spending on a charity card

to loved one, friend and neighbour;

best wish them well

on the mantel (for everyone to see)

than save for the meter

in case we should meet in the street,

since they will be sure
find a way to say how mean spirited 

folks can be in spreading festive cheer,
and point the finger

Where Xmas (or any) cards

a roll call for those who play a part

in our lives, big or small,

it should be those plainly missing

that strike mind-body-spirit 

hardest of all, and to whom the ghosts
of human love turn to investigate

reasons behind any absences 

before it's too late to even make a start
on affairs of the heart

Cause for concern about a special someone?

Go on, pick up the damn phone...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011; 2014

Christmas, Glossing Over Missed Opportunities

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At this time of year, people often tell me they are so looking forward to Christmas because they see it as a reason for celebration and renewal, usually more in a temporal than religious sense, as if Christmas will make everything bad in their lives so much better, keeping up the momentum until New Year, and then…?

Too often, the bubble of make-believe is burst soon enough as January arrives with all the indifference to human potential of a Grim Reaper.

We may not be altogether masters of our own fate, but life is what we make it. Mind and body may well be subject to external influences, sometimes of the worst kind, but the human spirit is better than that, and deserves to be given its head. The inner self knows us better than we think we know ourselves, and more of us need to listen rather than turn a deaf ear in favour of false (if attractive) promises the world often makes but has no intention of keeping.

Christmas, like all religious festivals is too often seen as signposting a sanctuary or at least some respite or escape from the harsher elements of life threatening to overwhelm us. Rarely, in my experience, will religion remove the threat for long; we need to build on the spirit and spirituality of peace and love (religion may have its share of both, but no monopoly), not be afraid to ask for help, and make a better life for ourselves on terms we will not flinch from meeting, no matter whether they are unacceptable to those who think they know us better than we know ourselves.

CHRISTMAS, GLOSSING OVER MISSED OPPORTUNITIES

Rain soaking the shirt, jeans;

body responding freely

to Earth Mother’s call to live,

let live, and get real

Face upturned, glad to be out

getting wet, mind distracted;

domestic crises, work targets

and assessments wreaking

havoc (with the best intentions)

stifling that very inspiration

meant to persuade, encourage,

leaves us feeling like flies

feeding on garbage left out

for the bin men, fodder for stray

cats, dogs, homeless folks, waiting

for Christmas

Oh, we may have a job, home,

mortgage etcetera - but a life

to call our own…?

Some may beg to differ, thinking

through yet another staff rota

at supper or marking homework

once guests (finally) gone home

to snug beds, 1001 nights and more

besides of cramming heads,

misting-up eyes, asking questions,

stirring up more lies and half lies

meant to persuade, encourage, only

to leave us feeling like flies

on garbage left for the bin men

to dispose

Christmas comes, Christmas goes;

it’s the inner self knows best

how to make the most of a potential

too precious to waste

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Waiting for Christmas' in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time, Assembly Books, 2005; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]

The Other Side of Christmas

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Religious festivals are, among other things, about thinking of others and not taking all we have in life for granted since, there but for good fortune, go you and I...

For those men and women (some of them gay) fighting wherever there is conflict for a better, kinder, world,  may the future hold some real progress in that direction. As for the politicians who send them there, let’s hope they won’t lose sight of those finer aims either, in spite of being preoccupied, as they invariably are, with their own personal standing on the world stage. Nor should we forget loved ones left behind while those in the thick of war risk their lives on a daily basis.

Many fight another war, this time on the Home Front; against poverty, prejudice, loneliness, depression, rejection, unemployment…

I recall, some years ago now, sympathising with a elderly neighbour who had fallen on hard times after a company in which he had been a major shareholder collapsed. " A bad business," he agreed, "but it's as the wife says, so long as we have family and [or]friends we care about and who care about us, who needs shares in anything else?"  At the time, it struck me as a rather trite comment, a way of saving face perhaps. In my 70's now, I often contemplate the wisdom of those words, and cherish the sense of well-being with which they never fail to fill me.

Unhappy people have told me how they hate being told to count their blessings because they are too few. Maybe they - and more, if not all of us - need to look (and count) again...?

THE OTHER SIDE OF CHRISTMAS

No Christmas tree in the window,

no cards or festive decoration,

no real interest in some Baby Jesus,

cause of starry-eyed celebration

As for listening out for reindeer,

deaf ears will catch no sound

or bells ringing out glad tidings

of great joy to (all?) mankind

No joy in snowflakes whirling past

like dervishes on a battlefield

assured of spoils in this, my city,

by climate change across the world

As for taking comfort and delight

in any religious celebration,

fat chance, when all its factions

primed for eternal division…

Nothing special for Christmas lunch

(but better than going hungry)

yet I dare say we’ll survive another

parody of common humanity

Some folks struggle, same folks cope

for shares in Love, Guardian of Hope 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

The Snowman

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[Update: December 23rd 2018; There has just been a devastating tsunami in the Java region of Indonesia. Whatever our religious beliefs (or those like me who subscribe to no none) let us spare a thought if not a prayer for all those affected. Ironic, isn't it, that world divisions only seem to unite, if only briefly, in the face of tragedy?]

Christmas 2010 is coming! Do we cheer, sigh or groan? Take your pick.

Now, when we celebrate a religious festival, obviously we are celebrating that religion whether it is Christianity, Judaism, Islam or Hinduism...whatever. At the same time let us remember those who are no longer with us, especially those who taught us how to keep its spirit alive with and open mind and heart so that all we celebrate has meaning way beyond its holy books and various rituals.

Regular readers know I am not a religious person but religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality. I, personally, found that in nature after religion let me down. Even so, I bear no grudges and respect other people’s religious beliefs – just as nature does - even though these are often tainted by intolerance and prejudice, including homophobia. Could that be, I ask myself, where human nature far too often goes so badly wrong?

The UK is experiencing its worst early snowfalls for eighteen years. The snowmen at least have never had it so good.

THE SNOWMAN

Snowman in the sun, icy patches
on the ground;
eyes of conkers soaked in vinegar,
reminder of autumn roll-over;
grandpa’s army coat lent a vintage look;
carrot nose, smiling mouth
(like a rhubarb stick);
we called him Jack, grandma’s cane
helping him stand or, rather,
keep him steady in reindeer tracks,
ready to lend a hand

Through the night we waited to see
if Jack would take his cue
from the likes of you and me, fairy lights
on the tree...but we dozed off;
we opened our eyes,
Ma flinging the curtains wide,
(no sign of Jack outside);
among gifts around the tree,
for any who care to look and see,
a card attached to a plain white box
reads simply...

'Thanks for the Memory'

Copyright R.N. Taber, 2004

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]