Christmas, Spare me your Good Wishes

                            [thoughts from    ~burning woman~    by Sha’Tara]

I was born and raised in a very Christian environment.  It wasn’t American, even Canadian, it was European, actually, Breton.  That’s a conquered Celtic province in the northwest of France that was once an independent duchy with its own royalty.  The last royal was a queen, Anne de Bretagne.  Her husband, fearing for his life, deserted her.  Hoping for a male heir, she had several children, all of them girls.  Finally, in order to save her country from being destroyed in bloodshed by the French, she abdicated and let the French take over.  There was no choice, you see.  She then entered a convent, so the story goes.  That was, like 700 years ago. Thought I’d throw that in. It’s my history, in the genes, the DNA, the bones.  Another story of another conquered race by another empire.  How many of us understand this, know this, feel this?

Most of “my” people today don’t remember, don’t want to know don’t care.  Like so many, they just want to live, get the best they can from what’s left of “the empire” or “the corporation” and make it to the end with some sort of value attached: a house, an apartment, a car, a family, some retirement money, anything that says, I mean something, I’m worth something… or… I won’t be living on the street when I reach 70.  Like me.  I sort of own a house.  It’s mortgaged, of course, but I can cover the monthly “rental” from the bank, as long as there is enough money to cover all the other expenses of owning a house, and a vehicle, and… you know what?  It’s all shit.

We are slaves.  Face it, admit it, and stop long enough to really feel your feelings when you realize it: I’m a slave.  I’m not in iron chains, my owners wouldn’t spring for the cost of chains, plus they’d slow me down on the assembly line.  I’m a slave to the ATM, the debit card and the credit card.  I’m a slave because I was stupid enough to believe those who taught me to be a good citizen; to trust, to work hard, to berate myself if I lost a job or failed to secure a new one, or two, or three on permanent part-time minimum wage no benefits basis.

I left the church, of course, long ago.  I couldn’t afford it.  I can’t make ends meet now, why would I worry about eternal life insurance?  Screw that.  If God is that cheap, maybe I don’t want to ever meet him.  At least hell has warmth and when the power is cut off and the gas is turned off in the middle of winter, some time in hell with a drove of old friends doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.  I’m sure we’ll come up with ways to make the best of a tough situation.  Are you kidding?  We’re from earth, we can party in the middle of a bombing raid; fuck while the shooting in the streets rages; hold a sub-machine gun at the ready while burying our youngest child.  We can hold our tears for another, more convenient time; we can let someone else shed them for us while we busy ourselves with our necessary vengeance.

Yes, I know all about heaven and hell, I was suckled on the concepts.  Hell, that terrible place of eternal burning torment designed by God for those who wouldn’t kiss his divine ass.  Heaven, that blissful place of eternal whiteness.  Ice and snow and winds blowing through taut harp strings from which moans of music flows.  Angels in white gowns and white wings frozen stiff as garden statues, standing on frozen white clouds and ghosts, billions of ghosts whom, after spending their life’s savings buying eternal life insurance got into heaven and remain there, bowed in frozen worship before the grimmest gargoyed deity, its grin carved in eternal green-hued ice.

Heaven, where nothing bad ever happens because nothing can ever happen.  Sick.

Being raised in Christian beliefs isn’t my problem.  My problem is that once upon a time I learned to read and I found a Bible and I read it.  I read the horror of it and the promises of it, the lies of it and the truths of it.  In my child’s heart, I only saw the truth, and I wanted that more than anything else.  Christmas and Easter were particularly poignant times, times of hope and times of utter despair.  Christmas didn’t tell me about a god being born to save my soul, it told me about man’s cruelty to man, particularly to the poor.  The ensuing story of a young man helping people and teaching them to love each other as best he knew how was my hope.  But the “church” caught up to the young man before he had a chance and they crucified him just as effectively as it crucified my child’s heart.  They had collusion and help of the government and the banks, as usual, and as now, just as my church had the help of the school and the village to crush my hopes of a just society.  Sick.

I thought, well, they just missed it and all I have to do is remind them that the Jesus they claim to love and follow actually would condemn them all in a heartbeat if he’d showed up in any of their fancy decorated churches with the fancy choirs and music and siren-song sermons purporting to be all about him.  Gag me, yes really.  I did tell them the truth of it, showed them the written words.  They did not repent, just made sure I paid for my effrontery.  Don’t… Ever… Question… the Status Quo.  There were punishments, that goes without saying.  Sick.

From his times on things didn’t get better, they got worse.  I watched it through my own eyes as they roamed the last two thousand years of history to culminate in today’s current events.  That land where the young man walked, taught and did his miracles is a land of oppression and bloodshed, the war crimes and genocide taking place there aided and abetted by those who claim to be that young man’s followers and disciples.  Depraved and sick.

Christmas, the absolute worst time of year.  Christmas, a time of extreme hedonism; of orgiastic pleasures, of blind self-indulgence and pathetic attempts at pretend love and charity with skinflint donations to charitable organizations whose bureaucracy eats up the lion’s share of donated funds to maintain themselves in luxury as tax-free business corporations.  Sick… sick… sick.

I’m glad that I found out some years ago that Earthians are not humans at all, they’ve just been conned into thinking they are.  Pseudo-humans the Teachers call them, with a slight chance of entering the human race in the distant future if they survive their own sickness, their greed, lust, hate, vanity, pride and egotism.  Survival, they said, remains in the very low percentile.  That should lighten my angst.  After all what’s dying and about to die is less worthy of care or concern than flora and fauna.  It’s nothing but a useless and life-sucking predatory species of artificial life.   Knowing the nature of Earthians should make it easier to bear my awareness of their current suffering and eventual demise.  It should, it does not.

What would drive me mad if I hadn’t entered into a different mindset than that of those who once were my peers?  The simple and obvious (to me) fact that being kind, gentle, caring, self-effacing, openly loving, open-handedly generous, self-sacrificing and ever compassionate is the greatest reward any Earthian can give her/himself.  There is no greater return on any kind of investment.  If only… if only they would get it.  If only they would just try it on for size and wait a bit for the amazement to cover them over like a mantle of blissful well-being.

But they won’t.  They will choose to consume themselves in consumerism and die of consuming consumption.  They will gorge themselves, laugh, make “love,” the richest giving each other redundant gifts that will be denigrated because more and better was expected.  Christmas, indeed, in deed.

There will be exceptions.  There always are.  They are necessary drops of oil on the cogs of the machine.  They will do some good, then they will give credit to their gods, their churches and their charitable organizations and whatever good they accomplished will pile up more propaganda (power) for the machine to create a greater circle of injustice.

Christmas: spare me your good wishes, they are a curse to the awakened mind.

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41 thoughts on “Christmas, Spare me your Good Wishes

    1. Sha'Tara Post author

      Thanks for the reblog, MMN. Don’t worry about the X’s wishes, I’m used to ’em. The “insult” comment is hyperbole. As an individual I don’t “do” insults, or at least to the degree that I am aware.

      Reply
  1. A writer from the East

    Very illuminating cold truth delivered by Sha’Tara! I also feel the same of our religious holidays so much hypocrisy and so much commercialization. Alas

    Reply
  2. We come from dreams ~

    When Christian missionaries reached the far northern kingdoms of Europe (Latvia, Karelia etc) they ran the same risks they ran everywhere else. The local chieftains would likely kill them as receive them. One such fellow got an audience with one such ‘ruler’ during a howling blizzard. Although the halle was warm there was a huge fire going to keep the place warm. The wind could be heard through the chinks in the windows.

    The missionary was ushered into the chieftain’s presence along with a translator. Asked his business, the missionary gave his spiel through said translator. Chief replied that if yE missionary wasn’t convincing, he’d be beheaded. So he gave it his best shot. The chief then asked (through the translator) what would happen if he didn’t accept this new religion, and the proselytizer explained about Hell to his trusty translator. The translator turned to the chieftain and said, “You’ll go to some place where it’s always warm.” Needless to say, the missionary lost his head.

    Reply
  3. franklparker

    You’re an old cynic – but I love you! I shall re-blog this because it is simply brilliant. I could not have said it better myself. I have a similarly cynical – but laced with humour – tale I’ll post later in the week.

    Reply
  4. themelanatedman

    You crossed the t’s, and dotted the i’ s on this one. This was good and straight to the cynical point!! 👍👍👍

    Reply
  5. Pingback: Christmas, Spare me your Good Wishes | Tales from the Conspiratum

    1. Sha'Tara Post author

      What a mess this is. Is this a reblog? If it is, thanks, wasn’t sure I should post to to TFC. I’ll post the next one, pure satire.

      Reply
  6. Lily Von Valley

    Christmas aside, I rather like the idea of winter in Hell; it’d be a sure way to rid chill blades from my fingers. But I also like Christmas carols, and all the sentiments of the season, until one is left feeling empty when it passes! Oh yes, slaves, of course the mortgage is but a conveyor belt to tighten the noose around one’s neck until mort sets in, to part us from the possession we so prized and sweated over. By the way, a slave would remain one even without a mortgage – a no win situation; hunted one way or another. Fantastic piece.

    Reply
      1. Sha'Tara Post author

        Oh Lily, you were just following another ghost through the bloggoforest. It’s easy to get confused in the fog…

  7. lotusphere

    … being kind, gentle, caring, self-effacing, openly loving, open-handedly generous, self-sacrificing and ever compassionate … . Yes, I thought this too and taught my children (all females) that these are the gems of life. I regret it because these formerly so called virtues have only contributed to difficulties in their lives, now compounded by the 2016 election in the U.S. He who bullies, lies, cheats, steals, assaults, insults, fabricates truth, etc. gets the prize and possesses the ring that ‘rules them all.’

    My previously dormant, dark, bitter, angry, frustrated cynic is the voice of my thoughts lately (it’s overrunning my usual positive, upbeat energy). In your writing I find camaraderie and comfort in shared thoughts. If ever there was a time & place for cynicism, perhaps this is it. Keep the posts coming!!!

    Reply
    1. Sha'Tara Post author

      Thanks for that thoughtful comment. As to your daughters current dilemma stick around, there may be some “information” here that could help, that you can share with them. A virtuous lifestyle demands self empowerment. I’m now making that concept a bigger part of this blog. I’ll also reblog others who express similar thoughts. Thanks again.

      Reply
  8. Maria Wind Talker

    I too was raised in a Christian (Greek Orthodox) family and broke free from the programming at 10yrs old to follow my own path. Great piece. Shared on FB. ❤

    Reply
  9. Woebegone but Hopeful

    Yes and No, I guess.
    The Christian Church way-back-when decided the time of the traditional pagan mid-winter celebrations would be a good time to celebrate Christ’s birth, folk would find the transition easy. And thus since the goodness-knows when we’ve been bringing up the question of the commercialisation and vulgar partying associated with Christmas.
    Well these days in the UK, in polite and not so polite society it’s just plain rude to mention the Christian side of Christmas ‘cas that’s not what it’s all about is it? In fact if I was to go onto the intellectual and social desert that was the ‘religious’ discussion forum I used to visit it will be a certainty someone is posting up a thread attacking the whole religious side of Christmas (heck I could write the script for them, seen the old tropes so often).
    And the West will go into sabbatical shut-down for a week or so, and hope no one spoils it all by mentioning the rest of the world. And folk down the road are having a worse time than ever because as this jollification is being shouted about the place and bringing their own miseries into sharp relief.
    I will say ‘Happy Christmas’ to folk who wish to hear me say that, because that’s fine by me if it cheers them up, and I’ll mean it.
    And because it’s a time of year of manufactured jollity I will try and wish everyone else well for their day-to-day lives, because those are not getting any easier.
    (And somewhere in all of that I will make time for what I believe, otherwise the rest will be kind of hypocritical).
    Take care Sha’Tara.
    Roger

    Reply
      1. Sha'Tara Post author

        It’s sincere, it’s happy… nothing wrong with a good happy wish; just hearing it is a feel good moment, a reminder that we still would rather live in a happy world.

    1. Sha'Tara Post author

      Thanks for the comment, Roger. That pretty much covers it. My real reason for highlighting the commercialization of Christmas is my intense “hunger” to participate in the celebration of “Christmas” as that event (real or imagined, don’t care!) was meant to be celebrated, in the spirit of those who heard the angels, made it to the stable/cave in the hills, crossed paths with the mages and felt themselves suddenly lifted into a different dimension of thought and possibilities. And it will not happen. I will spend time totally alone and cry. I know because it happens every years. I’ll cry at all that we, as a people, were robbed of and how easily we allowed it to happen. Sometimes you need to turn your pain into anger so you can process it faster. Jesus did that when he saw the money changers (banksters) in the temple of God. Indeed, do make time for what you believe.

      Reply
      1. Sha'Tara Post author

        Thank you, Roger, and may this be the best “holiday season” you’ve ever had. Seriously! 🙂

  10. polymath0

    Yes yes and yes! I’m pretty sure the first good thing I ever wrote was about the misery of Christmas. It’s too bad I threw it away (I throw everything away). Oh well. Christmas always angers and saddens me. You know that the season is doomed when the first day of the season is called, “Bad Friday,” and is defined by gross mindless spending and people sucker-punching each other for televisions.

    I was not raised in a Christian environment, though I did have Christianity used as a weapon against me every time it served someone else some purpose. As I grew up I despised the religion. Now, I find the complexities in it. Last year, a friend invited me to Handel’s Messiah Sing-along at a church. He had always been a Christian, but the year before he’d converted to an atheist…or rather, he claims nature to be his god. I’d say that’s similar to my own belief. However, when I was in that church and singing and looking at the carving of Jesus, I found him as he really was. A man. If you read about the history of Christianity, the historians claim Saul (Paul) to be the founder of the religion, not Jesus. Jesus was the man who loved and cared everybody. At that church and during that sing-along, I met Jesus for the first time and found the absolute lovely beauty of a person who was good. To me, any old god could be boringly perfect, but a man…oh, to know of a man who really loved and cared people-the poor, the rich, and the suffering. It touched me deeply and still does.

    Reply
    1. Sha'Tara Post author

      Thank you, and good question that, Doug. In the carnal sense, yes, madly in love for short and painful times. In the spiritual sense, definitely. In both cases, a complete disaster. I used to wonder why my carnal “relationships” always foundered. I was of the “transgender” type and didn’t know it and how could I have known? My Christian world certainly wasn’t going to help me there, except to be condemned to hell if it had found out. Now that I know what that is, I look back and understand why that “in love” thing was always a “falling” and never redemptive. If I went back to the beginning of these weird feelings, would I give in to them? No. Would I contemplate marriage type relationships? No. In the spiritual realm, would I still fall in love with God? No. I’ve “divorced” three people and God. Three “virtues” I have removed from my life: faith, hope and love. Emotional traps. Counterfeits for knowledge, understanding and compassion. Knowing what I am, would I want, or need, a lover, or lovers? No. Sorry, long answer to a short question. If that’s not what you wanted to know, ask again. This is an open discussion place.

      Reply
      1. Doug's BoomerRants

        Seems to me, when all else fails, believe in yourself.
        Now… seems trite given all your personal identity struggles I will never be able to imagine. Yet, you’ve gone this far based on some level of determination, survivability, and most certainly courage. You may not have had a lot of choices but you evolved rather than submit. Just be yourself. But, that’s easy for me to say. right?
        I asked the question because I already knew the answer yet wanted to understand. We are all vulnerable in some way.

      2. Sha'Tara Post author

        Very keen observations, Doug. We are all vulnerable in some way… how perceptive. A thought I’ve certainly had opportunity to ponder. When I was younger I hated being vulnerable. I grew a tough shell, talked tough, acted tough and died inside. That wasn’t me, I was just reacting to a society I could not identify with and it scared me. Then I grew up and chose to become myself. And vulnerable. I wanted to become a compassionate being, totally. The only path was through vulnerability; love your enemy, enemies. Only I couldn’t love so I learned to care, to understand and where I couldn’t understand, to accept. For their sake, not mine. I taught myself to “serve” rather than take, step by step, and since each step made me stronger inside, continued realizing I had chosen wisely, picked up the correct grail. (I believe that’s in reference to Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade…) Life has taught me that we are all on a quest for ever-higher evolved states of consciousness, involving other worlds and realities where time is no longer chronological or doesn’t even exist. Earth’s quest has been greatly stymied by being “taken over” by a power called “the Matrix” which was designed long ago as a means to control all sentient worlds of this universe for the “Time Lords” or the great divinities that exist in “space” outside the awareness of those they enslave… etc, etc, reads more like some Star Trek science fiction episode than real life but when entered into it begins to make “too much” sense. The reality of it, of those “spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” it just too real to the awakened mind. “Neo” and “Trinity” exist also in the real world… and those controlling implants? Every Earthian has one – it’s called the soul. The Wachowski’s were inspired.

      3. Doug's BoomerRants

        A common illustration I’ve made in the past is that we all make our own prisons and we each make our best wardens. Yet it’s not always easy to escape even if we have our own keys to leave anytime we wish. Have you built your own prison with all these symbols and terminology of an alternate control? Not attacking.. just challenging. Is “Earth’s quest” really your quest?

        Let me make a wild summation here. It’s obvious you watch movies. Did you see all of them at the theater or at home? I am guessing home.

  11. Pingback: Christmas, Spare me your Good Wishes — ~Burning Woman~ | The Melanin Man

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