I find comfort posting to WordPress. Facebook carries a lot of noise and distraction on steroids, and it often feels like I'm in a corner waving, trying to get someone to pay attention to me there, to hear what I have to say, and then give me a thumbs up, or a pithy reply.
Letting go is not for sissies. If anyone needs a push, or a swift kick in the rump, it's me. Even then, I still won't let go right away. I've held onto grudges like trapezes and withheld forgiveness more times in my life than I care to count, so it's no wonder I'm not very good at it.
I love this song. There are other Christmas songs I love, and I've noticed the ones I am drawn to are infused with a sense of longing and acceptance, of joy and sadness in equal parts. It's my way. From the time I was small, there seemed to be a sense of abundance with the giving and shopping, mixed with a sense of poverty and the acknowledgment that there are those for whom the holiday is a mixed bag of coal and candy canes.
Not just recently, but all my life. From the time I was a little boy, if I could find a "something" I was passionate about--drawing pictures, building with Legos, playing the violin--I would pour 100% of my focus into it, until I became exhausted by it and ultimately, bored. I had to learn to balance the short-burning fireworks of passion with the fire-pit maintenance of pragmatism.