As I coasted down the sloping street, my gaze was attracted by the Christmas decorations above. The garlands of bluish lights hung in turn from one or the other side to sweep down to the opposite houses. A succession of globes made up of myriad luminous points conferred more depth to the perspective. I was pedalling in the cold December night and the smooth glide of my racing bike made me feel like flying under that fairylike canopy of decorations.

I thought Christmas really was beautiful.

 

I had spent a blissful half hour listening to an exceptional performance of choir music, lyre and organ in an old church. I had been sitting on the marble step of a side altar, which was so artistically lit inside, that I saw it with different eyes and wondered at its unwonted grace.

I had let myself be lulled by the soothing power of music, and wondered how I could not only bear sitting there doing nothing for the while, but also enjoy the show. I thought I had lost the ability to focus on anything. For every time I sit down to read a book, I have so many thoughts coming to my mind: turn on the laptop, check emails and who’s online, and so on. It’s the perverse addiction to the IT world that has lamentably modified they way our brains work.

A multitask mind is not always a desirable quality if it keeps straying to other distractions: it doesn’t let its owner enjoy anything with dedication.

At least, this time I was being able to take in the harmony of music and fantasise it might be a cure to all ills – a much needed Christmas present. Going back to fewer simple things has the advantage of avoiding being caught in the whirlwind of events.

I glanced at the edge of my white woollen cardigan showing under the dark jacket sleeve – I liked this winter outfit. I was so relaxed that I leant on the cold balustrade and still thought it was a comfortable position. But the watch hands were already pointing to a quarter to ten and I realised I had to leave.

My attendance couldn’t last as long as I wished because I had been invited to another concert where a friend was singing. Gospel music is not my preferred genre, but I had to put in an appearance. And I’d meet friends, so it’d be a social occasion. All for Christmas…

Most people now think, “How boring! Christmas is coming up again…”. For some time I also believed that being unconventional meant discarding festivals. Now I realise it’s actually even more original to think how happy I am that Christmas’s here, because everybody’s so blasé about everything in general, anyway.

Take away festivals, we would have a succession of boring days with very selfish distractions, i.e. those moments that we create for our happiness without the participation of others. A festival is something more. It may imply awkward family reunions, all right, but we should not discard our collective dimension that has suffered most under the brunt of extreme individualism.

Welcome back Christmas! Do brighten up our lives with the dim sparkle of flickering lights in the cold December night.

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