From an outsider’s perspective, it seems to me there is often something charming, innocent, and even heartwarming about human holidays and the various ways we mark important (to us) moments in the passage of time. The traditions, the food, the conviviality, etc.
As a member of the culture, however, I am generally an “anti-holiday” kind of guy. Maybe this is my little way of rejecting the imperial calendar and our consumer trappings, or maybe it’s an expression of my quiet rebellion against time itself—I tend to tolerate the holidays more so than enjoy them.
Having “time off” is another matter; it seems I can always use more of that—but only if I feel I am somehow trapped “in time” and its demand that I do things to keep up with life, work, projects, family & friends, and so on; no matter that I might feel like doing, or not doing, otherwise.
When I actually experience “nothingness,” and can rest in it for a while—the utter lack of motivation, the true savoring of oblivion that the season of cold and dark engenders—I can begin to feel excited about the things of life again. Grateful. Human-friendly. Happy to play in time. Moreover, with each passing year—with its ups and downs and wormholes and reality tunnels—as a general trend, there seems to be more of a sense of “time-freedom” in my life. I’m warming up to the sense of getting older, to the sense not only of being but of having been—and to continuing—which is worth marking and celebrating.
And so I pass along my season’s greetings to whomever might be reading this.
Here we go again… 
