Last season I submitted a My Turn called “Remember who we are.” It’s easy to feel pessimistic with two wars simultaneously vying for our compassion. That column eschewed pessimism in favor of respecting our real place in the universe. I cited a legendary tale when opponents in a war put down their grievances on Christmas and shared their food and their lives. What would follow that was, regrettably, the course set down by the powerful, the fearful, the covetous — the subsequent course of History as written. Europeans invaded and were buried with their guns, not found in the earlier graves of the original tribes.

The times that bring us together seem always the moments when caring and engagement bring contrasts and need us to call down our better angels. We’re confronted with wondering if human beings can or will ever commit themselves, ourselves, to lives of lasting peace. Each year we’re here on our own path: misunderstandings, fears, and apprehensions seem always part of the terrain. The leaders are not always saints, very often covetous of power, driven by ego, and quite comfortable leaving consciousness aside. Our beings are so surrounded by the excess we create for ourselves that our values become clouded and estranged from reality. Do “things” bring us together or do they tear us apart? We’re good at making “things,” and then placing the value of our lives on those “things,” how much we’ve accumulated.

But we ourselves are not “things.” We’re spirit. In every sense of the word, we’re divine. That’s not some out there or up there condition, necessarily anointed because of what we’ve done, or wise to think because it might make us feel powerful. It’s so because how else can you imagine a quirky, impulsive, sensitive, imaginative, compassionate, funny, illogical at times, and so remarkably given to flights of fancy, immersed in the need to find love, suffering grievously without it, knowing inwardly that life on Earth is a game we all play and at its conclusion we want the scale to be balanced in our favor. Wars don’t balance anything in our favor, wars destroy the scale.

So here we are about to celebrate the birth of Christ and also Hanukkah, the festival of light. And here we are on this little blue planet with our hopes and dreams of a more equitable future, a more livable planet. The pressures and tensions that dominate today we know are accumulating, resolutions are temporal and depend on complexity rather than common cause. We’re not in a world where the tragedy of a Ukraine or Gaza can be affected by anything as ephemeral as a brief seasonal respite of violence and want. It’s tragically laughable.

I wrote before: “We can pick up the pieces of ‘22 and reimagine a better future. We can get tripped up by the past or we can take charge of the future, perform the same scenes, or reimagine them.” There’s nothing small in those goals. We can try to include more people and sensibilities in our lives, or we can remain in our comfort zones. Many know their limits and have found that trying to do more, expand into the unfamiliar or uncertain is too dangerous a pursuit. Society seems to function with the idea that a certain conformity of manners leads to better sensibilities, more comfortable playing fields, and they are right, of course. We don’t need more chaos than we already have. But we can expand what we’re willing to learn and embrace. We’re what and all we have. With all our faults it takes so little to find the time for recognizing the qualities of others, the similar paths, the constellations, the equities that we owe each other. I wrote last year: ” … we have to look closely at what we accept from others and what we accept from ourselves. They are different in many respects. We either listen to or ignore others, and we either listen to or ignore what we’re telling ourselves, let alone what others think. We keep our thoughts private, or we enter the ring where the beauty of our beings (and thought, sic) can shine. That’s the most sublime and surprising place.”

But enough moralizing. If you think I’ve been preaching you’re probably right. What better thing to do than lay it out as it is and know what our choices for this next year should be. Every one of you readers has solemn duties to see this unraveling world as it really is, without blinders on or prejudices, without qualms and second thoughts. Hinged or unhinged, fearful or fearless, hilarious or glum, aloft or earth-bound, delightful or delirious, incomprehensible or plain as day, give yourself and others the gift of love. It’s that bottle that’s always open with a bottom that’s a mystery. Bless you all.

Alan and Jane reside in Shelburne Falls. Black Cat Kiko slinks like Marlena Dietrich, as my oven bakes the last batch of cookies, and we prepare for Christmas in Maine. With luck we’ll walk on the beach and send out thoughts to the four winds.