Review: The Christmas Spirit

The sentiment has been voiced many a time each year. How different the world would be if we spent the rest of the year living and acting like we do in the Christmas season. Which one can only assume means, cursing visiting family, driving around to farthest reaches of the planet for gifts no one needs; making an ass out of ourselves as we trip old ladies to take the toy from their hands, we know they didn't actually want for their grandkids; walking past at least a dozen Salvation Army Santas without any change, because everything is done on credit now; imposing a system upon our children wherein they believe that by behaving for a couple weeks out of the year, they'll be forgiven for poisoning the neighbor's dog and in turn receive presents galore. Oh, and the ritual stuffing ourselves with a thousand treats natch.

Ok, that's just a happy side effect of the holiday. What everyone is referring to is of course the warm feeling one feels towards their fellow man\woman. The trouble is, it's just not possible. See the Christmas Spirit may be a powerful emoter, but it lacks stamina. And no matter how much you bathe in it, when that clock hits straight up midnight, it's over.

I guess in a way there's a kind of magic to it. Other feelings gradually taper off. Like for some who marry for love and it takes them a few years to realize that's not enough. Or children on their birthdays who go to bed afterwards happy and reliving the day. Remember the last couple of weeks of summer vacation? There was a gradual tapering off of ecstasy as the doom of the another school year loomed over head. But the Christmas Spirit is an instantaneous shut off switch. It's over, you wake up, and you're glad it's done. Until next year that is.

I guess the best way to liken it is to the phoenix. In December it is born and soars on fresh wings. It glides over the valleys and hills of our hearts, reflecting on it's golden surface, memories of how we felt as children. It takes us upon its back and we soar through the highs and lows of the season. And then at last, Christmas becomes a pyre set ablaze. We enjoy ourselves with mirth and merriment. Family and friends lining our house and the inside of our souls. All the while the phoenix is burning. Until at last on the stroke of midnight, in a quick burst of flames, it is ashen. Dead.

Waiting to be reborn.