Just thoughts

WikiAnswers - well was just refreshing my understanding of Christams and what it means, and found this info on Wiki site ...

Religious historians attribute Dec. 25th being designated as Christmas to Pope Julius I, sometime in the 4th century A.D. It was set to coincide with the Roman Winter Festivals.

The truth is complicated, and it depends upon what tradition you're referring to as "Christmas." "Christmas" as "Christ's Mass," the celebration of Christ's birthday, originated when the Roman Catholic Church decided to concecrate pagan traditions. The Church wanted to convert the pagans of Europe to Christianity, and as a way of doing so, they established a Christian religious meaning to the important and popular celebration of the winter solstice. They chose the birth of Christ because it echoed pagan attributes of the holiday, which celebrated, amongst other things, the rebirth of the Sun. ["rebirth of Sun"/"birth of Son," get it?]. The truth is that, before then, Christians didn't really celebrate Christ's birth; it was his death and resurrection that were supremely important, and his borth was a minor point without a fixed celebration.

It's certain that Jesus ''wasn't'' born on December 25. In fact, the details in the Bible clearly point to his being born in the spring. Placing the holiday of December 25 was a direct attempt to co-opt solstice traditions.

Christmas as a ''modern'' celebration, including most of the things we associate with it (Santa Claus, gift-giving, carols, egg nog, etc.), were a Victorian invention. A number of writers and politicians, including Clement C. Moore ("The Night Before Christmas"), popularized Christmas as a family tradition, in part to supplant undesirable older traditions that had become part of Christmas (including "misrule" traditions we now associate with Halloween!). For a detailed and fascinating account of the Victorian Christmas invention, read Stephen Nissenbaum's excellent "The Battle For Christmas."

......... and

Dec 25th was initially celebrated as 'Conquering the Sun Day', in which the Romans at the time, who worshipped the sun, thought the Sun God was pleased with them as the days started to get longer. They would have celebrations and exchange gifts. Those that believed in Jesus feared for their lives, and wanted to mark a day for his birth, and so did on the same day, under the guise of the Roman beliefs. So the birth of Jesus was celebrated around 460AD for the first time, and as the Church grew, it eventually took the day over for themselves.

Interesting.

http://wiki.answers.com/Q/Where_and_how_did_Christmas_start

Every now and again I have cause to glance over my shoulder and take a look at my journey so far. The road I have travelled is not straight, but is a mercurial ribbon of twists and turns often running right over the top of mountains! I see scattered here and there some hopes and dreams that litter the hedgerows like empty packets and wrappers. But here and there are tiny lights that shine, beacons of accomplishment - mostly part of my growth and things I have learned. What hopes and dreams lay empty and thrown are strange elements of my life. I look at them and wonder, did fate or destiny really lead me to that or this. Sometimes I feel a relief that some things did not work out - further down the road being able to see that it would have been disasterous to say the least. In this I feel a lesson has been learned. However, there are those that I cannot fathom as useful at all - not even today do I feel they served any purpose whatsoever.

I wonder at fate and destiny. I don't like the idea of it in truth, preferring the more comfortable fit of 'free will' - feels like something I can wear without feeling stifled and trussed up. I can't help but believe that while there are many possibilities, chances, opportunities we can have in life, we actually choose with our own will which one we follow. But is this just me 'thinking' I have free will?
Perhaps I'm programmed to think I am free? Like the Matrix - its all an illusion.

How do we begin to understand the concept of fate or destiny - I mean if I take apart a watch will it help me to understand time? The Kahuna
believe we have three souls - and part of our life on earth (if not all of it) is to learn lessons and return with that knowledge to our higher soul/self - this is how the Higher self grows and expands.

When we ask what is our purpose - I ask what's wrong in us defining our own purpose?

That road I've travelled is as full of mystery as the road ahead of me.
One step forward and I'm on the move again although today I am in no hurry, preferring to stop here and there to admire the view of the mountains, the sunsets, the early morning spider weaving her web, the
last song of the evening from the calling bird, the first sign of buds dusting a bloom on winters boughs. I am in no rush to any particular place and have learned to take the side roads on occasions and the leafy dappled lanes. After all it is the journey that matters not the destination - right?

Just thought I'd wander around Wales my way and take a look at some of the funny things I find there, and better described by John Winterson Richards in his book 'The Xenophobe's Guide tothe Welsh'....

Welsh pride "Welsh pride is real pride - the sort of mindless, instinctive, animal pride that requires no justification or excuse...Such pride is the only thing one has left when one has been stripped of everything else...."

How they would like others to see them ...."The Welsh simply could not care less what other people think of them. Among themselves, they not only think and believe that to be Welsh represents the highest form of human achievement - they know it" rofl..

Special Relationships ..."If the English did not exist, the Welsh would have to invent them. To a very great extent, the Welsh define their national identity in terms of the English .." I think this is moreso in Rugby - I mean who else would we rise to meet on the field of battle if it were not the English lol

And let us not forget that when the Welsh are not having a go at the English they are having a go at each other! So the coastal Welsh have a go and mock the Valleys people and visa viz ..North criticises South regarding the language and so on ...we just like a good fight!

"Wales is run by a secret and sophisticated elite, the extent of whose power is carefully hidden! Wales is in fact run entirely by women!" rofl

"The Welsh have a great military reputation as men who enjoy fighting
and are good at it. This is probably because they found fierce and bloody warfare a pleasant and tranquil alternative to dealing with their womenfolk" ..

"The dominant feature of a Welshman's childhood is his Mam. The traditional Welsh mam is a combination of the gentleness of a saint and the degree of flexibility usually associated with the average mountain (all rock and no sandstone!).

As for Sex and Marriage .. well

First Welshwoman: "Mary Pugh is getting married"

Second Welshwoman: "Is she pregnant then?"

First Welshwoman: "No"

Second Welshwoman: "There's posh!"

Singing and poetry are thought to be the domain of the Welsh.
Welsh language poetry has an ancient history going back to the celtic bards, and was very much an integral part of welsh life. The poetry has a broad vocabulary, and its emphasis on rhythm rather than rhyme.
It is true to say that some things are untranslatable, its metaphor truncated almost instantly by English. Having said that I believe
that Shakespear proved that English can be expanded to wonderful metaphor!

Anyway more on the Welsh another day .. time for a cuppa and a welshcake I think! Bless our local post office that had a delivery of fresh bakes this morning!

Hwyl fawr!

I never knew there was so much to know and you have certainly expanded my universe and taken me way out there! lol

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=ikq9YHAfX2c

Sometimes we can forget the magic, but you made me feel that excitement I once experienced as a child

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=ycRnQVi4lxE

Yule time is coming, and I am wondering where I shall go to seek my log this year to burn and warm my hearth through the longest of the nights. Of course I can always go to the nearest garage and buy a big bundle of logs - but that wouldn't be the same now would it. The hills around my village hold on to the remaining ancient oaks who have not gifted the ground with a twig as yet, but somewhere I'm sure an old grandfather tree has dropped such a gift. It would be nice if it snowed too - crunch crunch on the lanes - cold toes and billowing breath glittered with frost and the faint hummmm of a song I used to sing a long time ago.

Silence descends upon the hurried mind at winter solstice - sit and watch the flame light and warm and give us time to reflect and simply be.
I refer to two sites for information on the ancient practices and history, and it is perhaps wise to suggest that if there is nothing to add why write it

The Winter Solstice falls on the shortest day of the year (21st December) and was celebrated in Britain long before the arrival of Christianity. The Druids (Celtic priests) would cut the mistletoe that grew on the oak tree and give it as a blessing. Oaks were seen as sacred and the winter fruit of the mistletoe was a symbol of life in the dark winter months.

It was also the Druids who began the tradition of the yule log. The Celts thought that the sun stood still for twelve days in the middle of winter and during this time a log was lit to conquer the darkness, banish evil spirits and bring luck for the coming year.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/religion/religions/paganism/holydays/wintersolstice.shtml

The Winter Solstice is the shortest day, and longest night of the year, and is the traditional time to celebrate the truly important things in life: your family, your children, your home and looking forward to a wonderful year to come. Winter Solstice, although it is the longest night, (boasting more than 12 hours of darkness), it is also the turning point of the year, as following this night the sun grows stronger in the sky, and the days become gradually longer once more. Thus the Winter Solstice is also a celebration of rebirth, and there are many traditions that stem from this perspective.

http://brighterblessings.co.uk/articles/yule.htm

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

by Robert Frost (1923)

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Dust of Snow

by Robert Frost (1923)

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

Toward the Winter Solstice
by Timothy Steele

Although the roof is just a story high,
It dizzies me a little to look down.
I lariat-twirl the cord of Christmas lights
And cast it to the weeping birch’s crown;
A dowel into which I’ve screwed a hook
Enables me to reach, lift, drape, and twine
The cord among the boughs so that the bulbs
Will accent the tree’s elegant design.

Friends, passing home from work or shopping, pause
And call up commendations or critiques.
I make adjustments. Though a potpourri
Of Muslims, Christians, Buddhists, Jews, and Sikhs,
We all are conscious of the time of year;
We all enjoy its colorful displays
And keep some festival that mitigates
The dwindling warmth and compass of the days.

Some say that L.A. doesn’t suit the Yule,
But UPS vans now like magi make
Their present-laden rounds, while fallen leaves
Are gaily resurrected in their wake;
The desert lifts a full moon from the east
And issues a dry Santa Ana breeze,
And valets at chic restaurants will soon
Be tending flocks of cars and SUVs.

And as the neighborhoods sink into dusk
The fan palms scattered all across town stand
More calmly prominent, and this place seems
A vast oasis in the Holy Land.
This house might be a caravansary,
The tree a kind of cordial fountainhead
Of welcome, looped and decked with necklaces
And ceintures of green, yellow, blue, and red.

Some wonder if the star of Bethlehem
Occurred when Jupiter and Saturn crossed;
It’s comforting to look up from this roof
And feel that, while all changes, nothing’s lost,
To recollect that in antiquity
The winter solstice fell in Capricorn
And that, in the Orion Nebula,
From swirling gas, new stars are being born.

Are we at the 'effect' of language or at the 'source' of it.
Does language confine us or set us free? Can language be sacred as say Sanskrit (said to be the closest language to Welsh/Cymraeg)is thought to be sacred? Why did it develop and are we any good at using it? Do we communicate well with language? Do we maintain patterns of struggle by using language the wrong way - words such as 'success', 'better', 'best',
'failure', 'achievement', and so on ... patterns of survival?
Should we use language to free ourselves, to explore who we are, to be who we are, or become who we can be? Does language set us free? We are sometimes overly preoccupied with 'getting it right' .. afraid of being 'wrong'ofbeing 'misunderstood', 'misinterpreted', 'confusing',
'too serious', 'too glib'... always this overriding analytical bite attached to it all.. so language becomes an instrument for survival - a stressful interraction - of course once we become emancipated from 'caring' whether or not it all matters, then we are free to express whatever we like - aren't we?

Is there a sacred 'I' that is muted by survival. Is there a way of making language sacred? Who controls the mouth? Language or 'I'?

Vyaas Houston, M.A.
States that "What makes a language sacred is how we use it. If a language is used to discover the sacredness of life, it becomes a sacred language. Whether or not a language is sacred is determined by who is using it. This in turn has a great deal to do with whether a language is being used consciously or unconsciously, whether we use language as an instrument to accomplish our real purpose in life, that is, wake up and find out who we are; or we are unconsciously programmed by language, to maintain patterns of a struggle for individual survival established by previous generations."

http://www.americansanskrit.com/read/a_sacred.php

Have you ever been to Fochriw? I'd like to say 'don't bother' but that would sound rude to an area on top of a mountain which in nature's terms is rather beautiful. My father during his lifetime seems to have had
a penchant for pubs (nice way of saying he was culturally bound by alcohol), and seems to have known where the most obscure pub was located - including Fochriw, which had a few sheep and an old pub with flagstones and the smell of keg beer, damp crisps and some toothless
retired farmers with bleary stares.

I have a theory that this pub did not exist at all in the 'real' world - my father could just conjure up pubs at will - I mean who'd put a pub up there and the whole scene was like something from the very distant past. Enter the twiglet zone...

Anyway Fochriw .. that day began with grey skies and drizzling rain that
we followed all the way to the top of the mountain - visibility like pea soup as we wound our way along the ribbon road to Fochriw's only pub.
My father was asked several times 'where are we going?' and he would say
'you wait and see... its a surprise!'. Yeah surprise alright, and my mother sighed and held back her ire for our sake and tolerated the soggy crisps and half a shandy. There was a helluva row when we got home, and he left for the nearest pub slamming the door behind him.

Ahh Welsh life - nothing like it

Of course when it rains that grey drizzly whinging rain that falls often in Wales, we call it a Fochriw day and shiver remembering the isolation of the little pub and the strange atmosphere. My father could not have cared less - all he wanted was a pint and it didn't matter if the devil himself served him! lol...it was the devil himself that made him I think!.

So if you have been to Fochriw let me know that its for real ok?

http://www.museumofhoaxes.com/hoax/weblog/comments/3836/

Makes me wonder ....

Monkey Art Fools Expert
Status: Art hoax
Dr. Katja Schneider, director of the State Art Museum in Moritzburg, has been embarrassed by mistaking a painting done by Banghi, a 31-year-old female chimp, for a work by the late Ernst Wilhelm Nay:

The director of the State Art Museum of Moritzburg in Saxony-Anhalt, Katja Schneider, suggested the painting was by the Guggenheim Prize-winning artist Ernst Wilhelm Nay. "It looks like an Ernst Wilhelm Nay. He was famous for using such blotches of colour," Dr Schneider confidently asserted. The canvas was actually the work of Banghi, a 31-year-old female chimp at the local zoo. While Banghi likes to paint, she is not able to build up much of a body of work as her mate Satscho generally destroys her paintings before they can get to the gallery. But this one survived long enough to give Dr Schneider a red face. "I did think it looked a bit rushed," she told Bild newspaper.

Of course, this isn't the first time monkey art has fooled an expert. The classic case occurred in 1964 when newsmen from Sweden's Göteborgs-Tidningen obtained some paintings by Peter, a four-year-old chimp at the Boras zoo. They hung the paintings in a gallery, claiming they were the work of avant-garde artist Pierre Brassau. And soon the works were drawing critical acclaim. One critic wrote: "Brassau paints with powerful strokes, but also with clear determination. His brush strokes twist with furious fastidiousness. Pierre is an artist who performs with the delicacy of a ballet dancer."

Unfortunately I haven't been able to find examples posted online of the art of either Banghi or Pierre Brassau.