For all you curious devoted readers, some seasonal reading as the Feast of Christmas begins.
I offer them with much appreciation and thanks, as both a Merry Christmas and belated Chag Chanukah Sameach for all of you who’ve been reading, responding, challenging, and enjoying The Paradoxes of Mr Pond through the years. I figured if you hang around here very often, something to read is the best sort of present. So here’s:
Myself on The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe at The Hog’s Head.
Friend of this blog Danny Gabelman on George MacDonald’s Christmas fairy tale “The Shadows” at Unsettling Wonder.
And from Paradoxes itself, three years ago last Friday:
In a way, the dwindling of childhood wonder appears manifestly at the holidays. Everyone remembers where they were when Kennedy got shot (I wasn’t born–I remember that), and where they were when the learned there’s allegedly no Santa Claus. (No, Virginia–I lied.) Or that Hanukkah Harry was really just a red-haired kid in a wig.
Sigh. Move on. We’re grown-ups now, however much it doesn’t feel like it. We understand about finance, and budget, and the laws of thermodynamics and spelling. The holidays are a time of expenditure and bustle. Of fatigue, collapse, exhaustion. Of too many relatives and not enough falafel.
Wonder? What about it?
There’s a silent, fluttering part of ourselves that still rushes to fall asleep on Christmas Eve–because maybe, in that place between dreaming and waking, we’ll hear the clatter of each little hoof, the crunching of snow on the shingles. Maybe, in the shadowy borders of dream and memory, we can hope like a child again.