Complex Numbers

Season

On every world, wherever people are, in the deepest part of the winter, at the exact mid-point, everybody stops and turns and hugs. As if to say, “Well done. Well done, everyone! We’re halfway out of the dark.” Back on Earth we call this Christmas. Or the Winter Solstice. On this world, the first settlers called it The Crystal Feast. You know what I call it? I call it expecting something for nothing!
         -Doctor Who, A Christmas Carol (2010)

Well, Black Friday Eve and Black Friday are over.

This can only mean one thing: endless reminders that it's the holiday seasontime for rampant consumerism.

The best thing I can say about this time of year is that it's not February. The abundant food, holiday cheer, and festive atmosphere are largely lost on me. When I was a kid, my family observed Hanukkah, and that was nice: eight days of gifts and candle-lighting. I learned pretty early on, though, that Hanukkah isn't "Jewish Christmas," no matter what well-meaning Christians tried to make it out to be. Don't get me wrong; I appreciated the attempts at inclusion, once I got old enough to understand more about the world. Even acknowledging that I was different (but that's okay) is a big step up from the historically prevalent anti-Semitism. But it still set me apart.

By definition, most people don't know what it's like to live someplace where their observances aren't shared by the majority. It can set a person apart, keep him feeling like an outsider.

But I'm grateful for that. I think it's made me a better person, in general; I can empathize with the marginalized, the square pegs in the round holes, those who never quite felt like they fit in - even people who had a much worse time of it than I did. But I never really wanted to conform to the social norms.

I can fit in when I try. Both times I married, it was to women from Christian families. Though neither of my exes were what you'd call religious, they and their families took Christmas (and Thanksgiving) for granted, and were open-minded enough to include me in their celebrations. I'd hang out, drink eggnog (the good stuff), exchange presents, stuff my face with cookies and the occasional candy cane, and otherwise participate in their celebrations. Mostly, they didn't care that I was different; I never felt pressured into the more religious aspects of the observances. Not really surprising, since both my ex-wives were even more of the rebel type than I am.

The only thing about this time of year that ever really resonated with me was the astronomical aspect. Axial tilt: it's the reason for the season! Long before there was a Christmas, there were solstice observances. If you've been paying attention, you probably already know that Christmas is when it is because they co-opted earlier celebrations. To watch the days get shorter and shorter, until one day, on the solstice, the daylight is as short as it ever can be at a particular place in the northern hemisphere, and knowing that, from there, there's nowhere to go but up - that's cause enough to celebrate.

And the thing is, with all of our different religions and quasi-religions and other groups into which we like to divide ourselves, that - the solstice - is one event that, if we wanted to, we could all agree on. Well, almost all. It'd be different in the tropics, and completely reversed south of the equator, but (for now) we're all sharing one planet and we could, were we so inclined, all acknowledge the natural cycles of sun, moon, and planet. It could be a point of commonality, something that binds us together, not only as humans, but as part of the larger domain of life. Which, as far as we can know for certain, only exists here on Earth. (Okay, chances are it's more widespread in this vast universe than that, but we don't know for sure yet, not to "kitten" levels of certainty.)

But we can't have that, can we? No, we have to argue about whose holidays are more correct to celebrate, which foods we should and shouldn't eat, whose deity is the right one (if any), hell, whether or not it's rude to say "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas." The best we can do, some of us anyway, is to appreciate our differences and our diversity, and be accepting of those who are different from us; but for the most part, we can barely even acknowledge that we're all human and all on this ball spinning in the darkness together, let alone agree on any one thing that unites us as a species.

And that's why I dislike this time of year. For some, it's a time of joy and wishes for peace, sure, and that's commendable. But in practice, it's more divisive than uniting, and that's what I, from my perspective as a thoughtful and cynical outsider, see in it.

So yeah, I'd like to think that we're "halfway out of the dark." But that's more of an ideal than the reality.

Still... I think I'll hold on to that ideal a little while longer.