Christmas spirit

The heat hangs like a blanket. The crickets are chirping, a summer sound.

An early morning ocean swim to soothe gangled nerves and heated blood.

I would have stayed there all day, if I had the option.

Christmas in Australia is heat, sand and water.

The coffee shop was buzzing. Our little surf community celebrating the morning.

The best part of the day.

Being surrounded by very old people, bodies and minds slowed by age, stubbornness holding the reins, gives you pause. 

It comes for us all. 

There was a beautiful young woman in her twenties who decided her face was not beautiful enough, so she pumped her lips and cheeks with Botox. It made me feel sad. I assume fragility of identity, but maybe I am wrong. Who am I to assume?

Some of the world celebrates the birth of a peacemaker, lover of the fragile, broken, prostitutes and lepers. The very one who threw the tax collectors out. I wonder where this Source Idea of Christianity has gone with those who claim it as they suck people dry with exploitation and cruelty.

If there is a Christmas spirit, it is this. Kindness and love extended to those who have been broken by the cruelty of life. The immigrants, the refugees, the addicts, the exploited.

A young man and his partner completely ignored the obvious fact that Tony and I had been the first in line at the coffee shop. It was deliberate. I had to bite my tongue. 

Back home, my patience is tested by the demands of my father. 

I dig deep for that Christmas spirit.

Photo Taken December 25th 2025, Article published December 25th 2025