Still grossly out of practice, I have returned. Attempting, perhaps in vain, to compress and consolidate the seemingly constant wonderings occurring in the ol’ electric head meat to some associations of words. And though hoping to be concise, I make no promises.

Been wondering about time. How it lies ever onward ahead in one way of perspective, while simultaneously falling ever further out of reach as we each pass by. The what once was forever bounding away as it bobs into oblivion in our passing wake. And still, all the while, here it sits before me as, I struggle with purpose within any of these ideas.

The Western Hemisphere tends to stress me out this time of year. Just the specific bit now bonded with egregious consumption, somehow in relation to the birth of some prophesized radical on the edge of that Latin empire some two millennia ago.

It’s not the winter, or the ending of the calendar year. I tend to find peace within the time when structured under such lenses. Just pre-solstice time allegedly conjoined to a mandated level of ‘joy’, as it were. And though a fool, I am at least self-aware enough to know much of the roots and cause for my seeming inversion to the otherwise widespread cult of holiday cheer. Personal matter within my own history, you see.

That’s the thing, though. Not being happy at a time where all around you, in human form and all sorts of media, claim that it is required to be engulfed in merriment- that sort of thing easily breeds resentment not only towards those talking heads, but the very idea of the ritualized social construct. For the better part of the last decade, the rebranded pagan solstice season serves to regularly amp up my own personal stress, whilst equally and oppositely reducing my patience and temperament. A regular occurrence with this time of year, as I sit arms folded and bad mood brewing.

And yet, it seems less so this go around. Perhaps my ability of ignorance regarding the whole thing has gone up with each passing time. Maybe, and a more scary proposition- I have grown further and further into numbness. A thought which I hesitate to admit, in fear that it might be growing towards truth. A bit of proportioned and calculated numbness is a fine enough feat. The fear is the ascension or rather, the decline, to emotional unwillingness may fall beyond any hope of resuscitation. An idea I dread, which I suppose means it has yet to officially occur. I have not grown numb to the point of ignorance, at least not yet.

Post-solstice is another story. The long nights I don’t mind. I have even been known to enjoy them, as it inspires the knowledge of days to stretch longer again, little by little. And all the landscape barren of vegetation reminds me of the necessity for regular flow whence and thence and so on. The ever-changing balance of life. Not equilibrium. Far too static for a thing as dynamic as life. As I recently heard a seemingly very smart fellow say on some online lecture- humans only achieve equilibrium once rigor mortis sets in. Guy was a neurosurgeon, so he certainly can’t be dumb. Crazy, perhaps. But aren’t we all?

Barren trees and the brief daily stretches of sunlight can pull much more to mind than all that yuletide horseshit.

Reminds me of Denmark. A place I had been what seems half a lifetime ago. And that alone can pull and push me in limitless amount of mental directions, the preponderance of passing time and intertwined lives floating towards the surface with ease.

Though, to be fair. I can stare at half a cup of black coffee and conjure up thoughts of failed romances, the decline of civilization or the impending toll of my own mortality.

I mean to be better. Truly, I do. And I like to think that in at least a few ways, I am better than what once was. I contain my addiction to nostalgia well enough, and don’t seem to be entirely without hope regarding the future, both immediate and far reaching. And sure, I don’t imagine being all enthusiastic about all this holiday stuff anytime soon, or even ever again, but that’s alright. I generally treat most other days in the way that is claimed required on these yearly occurring festive days. And that is something that many cannot always do, for which they have my pity or disdain, depending on the individual.

I will say this, though. If you are one of those overly excited imbeciles when it comes to this time of year, try to keep in mind that not everyone is always able to have such a great time. And the blues are always denser when all around you can’t understand and claim that you must be the inverse way. Depending on what you have going on, the constant sound of outside joy can cut deep in the opposite of the heart that is struggling.

And if it is required that you wear proper attire and behave in accordance with the mandated wave of public opinion in order to attain a preconceived level of happiness- that sounds more like the behavior of cult members than just plain old festive folk.

And if you can’t enjoy a perfectly good January twelfth, or April twenty-second or a random Tuesday in October- perhaps it is you with the issue. And if that’s the case, you can take your December twenty-fifth and shove it.