I was expecting to be somewhere else today . So this was a break in time. I woke up, made coffee, took the pot back to bed, and finished the final part of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. As it ends on Christmas Morning, I usually start on the 23rd, read again on Christmas Eve, and then finish, joyfully, today. I calculated that I must have read it 50 times. Christmas is about tradition and ritual - so it is right to return to the same things. What changes is us. You and I are not the same. We come back to those texts in our updated selves, and, of course, the text seems to have changed. We know that isn’t the case. What is so splendid is that the text meets our changing selves. That’s why the best books matter; they meet us at the crossroads every time.
Thank you so much, Jeanette. This is wonderful. I agree, A Christmas Carol is the best thing to read at this time of year. I think I'll read it again next year, inspired by you.
This was a beautiful thing to read right now. The bit at the end, about the crossroads of past and future, that really hit home.
I've talked to friends recently about that sense of feeling closer to the 6 year old me on Christmas today than I do to the person I will be next week. Time works differently. I hope you are enjoying the warmth of your fire and you are replaying many beautiful memories, as you encourage us to do. Lots of love X
It's beautiful to read someone else capture that deepening, quickening of time that happens on Christmas Eve. Quick silver and iron heavy all at the same time. I couldn't manage to hitch myself to its magic this year. A wounded part of me was already caught in the martyrdom of St Stephen's Day. Stoned in Jerusalem. Two years ago I was, giddy on the highs of audacious possibility, this year back in England, alone. Loss too close a companion, so that happy memories had all the weight of regret and the stark shock of an amputation.
Instead of A Christmas Carol I've been reading The Gap of Time. The tragedy of the first act allowing me to mine a subterranean seam of trauma. The resolution unresolved but, in your retelling offering a promise of regeneration. Oh and that epigraph! An anchor and an encouragement that incites me to be the one who will... do it better.
Thanks Jeanette, a lovely surprise your Christmas message! I've written some poems about loss, but really so far they've been more concerned with "reality" than hope. Being fatalistic can sometimes be less painful than dwelling on good memories, or keeping hope alive. But you're right, that's no reason to give up on hope. As they say "when the going gets tough..."
One of the most moving passages I've ever read is: "The door of the house opens. It's you, coming out of the house, coming towards me, smiling... I knew it would all end like this, that you would be there, had always been there..."
So I'm sending you buckets-full of Christmas wishes, that all your dreams may come true xxx
Thank you for sharing such a thoughtful Christmas meditation Jeanette. I love the idea of hitching ourselves to time, of standing inside time and space rather than just elbowing our way through it. I’ve been reminded that I have that power several times during the year (not always for pleasant reasons) but there is something lovely about the synchronicity of the Christmas season that allows for shared moments in time and space. Although you may not have been where you hoped to be this Christmas know that many of your readers were with you in spirit.
My new xmas tradition is listening to Christmas Days Twelve Stories by JW.
Thank you so much, Jeanette. This is wonderful. I agree, A Christmas Carol is the best thing to read at this time of year. I think I'll read it again next year, inspired by you.
This was a beautiful thing to read right now. The bit at the end, about the crossroads of past and future, that really hit home.
I've talked to friends recently about that sense of feeling closer to the 6 year old me on Christmas today than I do to the person I will be next week. Time works differently. I hope you are enjoying the warmth of your fire and you are replaying many beautiful memories, as you encourage us to do. Lots of love X
It's beautiful to read someone else capture that deepening, quickening of time that happens on Christmas Eve. Quick silver and iron heavy all at the same time. I couldn't manage to hitch myself to its magic this year. A wounded part of me was already caught in the martyrdom of St Stephen's Day. Stoned in Jerusalem. Two years ago I was, giddy on the highs of audacious possibility, this year back in England, alone. Loss too close a companion, so that happy memories had all the weight of regret and the stark shock of an amputation.
Instead of A Christmas Carol I've been reading The Gap of Time. The tragedy of the first act allowing me to mine a subterranean seam of trauma. The resolution unresolved but, in your retelling offering a promise of regeneration. Oh and that epigraph! An anchor and an encouragement that incites me to be the one who will... do it better.
Thank you for the inspiration
Thanks Jeanette, a lovely surprise your Christmas message! I've written some poems about loss, but really so far they've been more concerned with "reality" than hope. Being fatalistic can sometimes be less painful than dwelling on good memories, or keeping hope alive. But you're right, that's no reason to give up on hope. As they say "when the going gets tough..."
One of the most moving passages I've ever read is: "The door of the house opens. It's you, coming out of the house, coming towards me, smiling... I knew it would all end like this, that you would be there, had always been there..."
So I'm sending you buckets-full of Christmas wishes, that all your dreams may come true xxx
Thank you for this beautiful and thoughtful reflection. Best wishes.
These posts around Xmas have inspired me and made me think (at 67, not a bad thing). Thank you for this, and for the ghost stories too.
Love this so!
Now that, that is lovely. Thank you.
Love this thanks. I'm gonna subscribe!
I watch the Alastair Sim 1951 version every year for a jolt of joy. Now I'm going to re-read the book.
Thank you for this wise and lovely gift.
Thank you for sharing such a thoughtful Christmas meditation Jeanette. I love the idea of hitching ourselves to time, of standing inside time and space rather than just elbowing our way through it. I’ve been reminded that I have that power several times during the year (not always for pleasant reasons) but there is something lovely about the synchronicity of the Christmas season that allows for shared moments in time and space. Although you may not have been where you hoped to be this Christmas know that many of your readers were with you in spirit.
Wishing you a peaceful and replenishing Christmas. Love Jude and Silver xx