Steve Hutchison (foomf) wrote,
Steve Hutchison
foomf

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Santa does not visit solitary homes.

Santa doesn't visit people who live alone.

Santa, having run headlong into the scientific impossibility of moving as quickly as would be required, when the world changed from a mythopoeic and magical place, when the wizard-souls of alchemy gave way and the hermetic souls of mathemagic took their place, Santa who was increasingly conjured and bound into the magical rebellion against the cold mechanism of impersonally automated soul-deleted equation-driven physicality, was forced to a paradigm of indirection.

Sinterklaas, Saint Nicholas, the echo in the collective unconscious, was gradually removed from his origin as the Bishop of Myra, a Christian who was persecuted by Diocletian and who was one of the shapers of the modern Christian faith, a participant in the Nicene Council, a loving and giving man, was taken into folklore, and from that place where the Saints wait, he watches his echo in time as it was transformed into a peculiar elf, a magical thing only loosely connected to the Christ who shaped Nicholas of Myra, and this impossible Santa who was able to visit everyone in a world which was bounded only by one's neighbors and immediate family, is now intensely expected to be everywhere in the world, his office limited to children and those whose hearts are transformed through love into childlike wonder.
He is powerful enough to carry his gifts through love but the cold physical reality means that he can only operate through the love of one person for another.

Santa cannot visit people who live alone, because there is nobody whose love shares a roof with them, creating a hearth where he can enter. Only sometimes, and so it's a better thing that those people who are homeless, helpless, who have no friends and loved ones, to be the focus of his manifestation through those whose hearts reach out to those who are most in need.

He did not visit me, because the opening into the world which he used for that, has been closed for now.
With the radio quietly playing christmas music, somewhere in the ghostly night, I did dream. When the morning came, and they broke out the loud, jolly, drinking-too-early strange relatives: Commercials, weird loud country music, I woke up slowly, and listened to the changed world.
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