.. and here’s to greeting 2011 with something less than fear. Here’s to hope. Hope that some kind of collective action can prevent the Government selling off our ancient forests to the highest bidder and that my Mum and Dad will be able to enjoy their walks around Yorkley without being told to “get off my land”, that not all of my friends will be made redundant, that the university to which I am applying will decide not to raise its PhD fees beyond my means. Bitter little hopes. I’m sorry they’re no more than that.
Wherever you are, I wish you all the best of the season. Myself, I’m trying to look past the obscenities on the television – the children groomed to an inch of their lives in order to sell perfume of all things, the ubiquity of things we don’t need but are being told we want (What about a decently funded State Education system. First degrees for free. Can I have THAT for Christmas please?), the sales sales sales cuts cuts cuts – to the images at the heart of our winter festival.
A baby, alive. A burning tree. Heat and light in the middle of the dark and cold. Animals, cwched up to each other for warmth. Humans doing hte same. The year turning as the moon waxes and wanes and the stars keep talking to us from so far away.
No matter how precarious it seems right now, here’s wishing hope, joy and peace to you and yours this Yule.