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The Old Magic of Christmas: Yuletide Traditions for the Darkest Days of the Year

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Linda Raedisch

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“Our contemporary Western celebrations forget the dead altogether, or at least remove them from any association with grief and loss. They offer no comfort to those who mourn. We are, after all, a society that has done all it can to erase death, to pursue youth to the bitter end, and to sideline the elderly and infirm. For most of us, the old tradition of laying out our own dead is long forgotten, and the idea that we might be intimate with death is now some kind of a gothic joke. Today's Halloween simply reflects what we secretly think—that death is a surrender to decay that makes us monsters.”

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Book:Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times
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“Going further back, have the seventy or so turbulent millennia since the Cognitive Revolution made the world a better place to live? Was the late Neil Armstrong, whose footprint remains intact on the windless moon, happier than the nameless hunter-gatherer who 30,000 years ago left her handprint on a wall in Chauvet Cave? If not, what was the point of developing agriculture, cities, writing, coinage, empires, science and industry?”

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Book:Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind
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“Whether we are writing fiction or nonfiction, journaling or writing for publication, writing itself is an inherently therapeutic activity. Simply to line up words one after another upon a page is to create some order where it did not exist, to give a recognizable shape to the chaos of our lives. Writing cannot bring our loved ones back, but it can sometimes fix them in our fleeting memories a s they were in life, and it can always help us make it through the night.”

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Author:Lee Smith
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“The smell of flowers was overwhelming, and it reminded me of walking into a flower shop to pick the perfect bouquet when my gran died. It wasn’t a good memory, and the smell was intoxicating. My heart broke while looking at the beautiful variations of flowers and smelling the sweet nectar. It was a terrible mix. The beauty, the nature, the colors, and the smell—all laced with grief. And what I could never comprehend was that flowers were for every occasion. You get them when you’re in love and when it’s your birthday; you can get them with a new job or a raise. And how is it supposed to make you feel when all you can remember is the smell of heartbreak, and it takes you back to that space in time? It doesn’t feel like a celebration of anything, but more like torture. Torture of the mind and soul.”

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Book:Dark Reflections
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