One of the great disappointments of my life was growing up to learn that Rock-n-Roll, most of it, is meaningless.  I thought all those lyrics and all that pomp MEANT something specific to each song.  Meant something beyond the obvious emotional rompouswhompus and beyond sex.  All that Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Rock machine do da.  I thought I would understand the incomprehensible lyrics when I grew up.  So sad to learn, they are mostly empty.  There are exceptions, yes, but mostly vapid yapping.  Really? Really.

Which is on par with my disappointment over Christmas.  As a child I put effort into the feeling of the season, I strained to feel the warmth of the star.  I heard the message from every corner of our society:  A child was born, a King, love has saved us. I didn't feel exactly saved by love but assumed understanding would dawn with ascent into adulthood.

Sorry to be so jaded and all.  But who isn't disappointed, a bit, just a little bit?  You start to wonder as you grow up.  When is the turning point, the dawn of reality?  Finding out Santa isn't real was more of a warning, foreshadowing.  Is it when you learn Jesus was not born in December, that that whole story is just a story, as manufactured as the poignancy in Robert Plant's voice when he sings about a girl so fair lost in Mordor?  Or that most of the ritual of the season is co-opted from Pagans and most likely for political or financial gain?

The best thing you can say for vapid social construct no matter which holiday or song, it does offer huge latitude for projection.  There is room in the season, as in art, to wrangle your own meaning.  The trappings and expectations, familiar sights smells rituals, pin down a place for us to layer continuity over the chaotic truth of change.  Life is always changing and chaotically so.  Which is scary and difficult at times.  We wish it were only partly true, let somethings change and somethings never change, please.  Well, it all changes.  But enduring custom changes slowly anyway.  And as I was saying, you can imbue it with your own meaning.

Which is good, as long as you are actively choosing meaning.  Because what happens most of the time is simple mirroring.  If your family is dysfunctional, so will your holiday be.  If your family chooses love as the enduring thread of continuity through time, then happy day!  Hey, its just like Paul McCartney said, "In the end, the love you make is equal to the love you take." I think that's pretty much what Jesus meant as well.  And in that way, I suppose, the season works.   If your family is not so enlightened, choosing love so consciously, then maybe take a cue from Florence and run fast toward consciousness.  (Run for your children!)  At least, I think that's what she means?   Aren't all these songs about moving and choosing your way toward love or away from chaos or at least toward meaning?  I hope so.