Christmas. Birth.

Musty festive air fills our nostrils and quirky jingles serenade our ears. The latest edition of Christmas is here. For millions around the world, Christmas is of monumental significance. It is the literal realisation of a promise; a promise of hope and salvation, of freedom from bondage and captivity. It is, retrospectively, an inspiring reminder that abject humility can transform into greatness, a heartbreaking new trickle of life that would someday coalesce into the ultimate sacrifice. It is about the celebration of the birth of a messiah. It is about the celebration of birth. It is about birth.

Surely there is little doubt in the tremendous joy at the birth of a saviour. A birth that is transcendentally altruistic. But what about the rest of us? Aren't a saddening number of births in the world today, a vain projection of lofty wishes and dreams from the parents unto the crying infant? Don't we name our children in the bizarre hope that they will be shaped by its significance, like clay in a mould? Whether the child would someday turn into a messiah or not, I have a troubling conviction that giving birth is a profoundly tragic violation of individual freedom - it may not be possible, but the soon-to-be-existent soul did not, and could never grant the sacred permission of wanting to be brought into a world of suffering and grief. Of wanting even to exist. To laugh at the pleasures of life, to fall in and out of love, to spin the wheel, to wound and heal, to shed tears of pain, only to relive it all again. It is little wonder that a new life, evicted from the illusory comfort of its amniotic sag, first and foremost erupts into unstoppable crying. "I sometimes wish I was never borne". Mere words of spite from a downfallen spirit? Or sublime echoes from the loss of an ultimate freedom?

Nonetheless, few words have ever changed the world, unless it be your very own. Christmas is still here, the mistletoes blossom, the bright lights still taint the sky, the charade of life rolls on, the flames of love and joy still burn brilliantly. I rummage my soul for the almost forgotten tune of joy, may yours resonate as loudly as ever! Merry Christmas.