As the stark fingers of winter’s trees testify to the coming of Christmas, I think we should reflect on its true meaning.
I am a cultural Christian, I love its architecture stretching back here to AD580, I can pick the bones of my ancestral belief system for its carols and imagery, play the songs as I deck my halls with pagan boughs of holly, invite friends and family to feast beneath lights and collect presents from below the evergreen tree, kiss my wife under the mistletoe, beloved hemiparasite, killer of Baldur, sacred to witches and druid alike, its winter greenery and berries carrying life through the darkness of the northern solstice, that turning of the sun that heralds the longer days of spring.
Whatever it means to you and however you spend it, I wish you well.