Trees. Christmas. Cynics.

When most people look at a Christmas Tree, they are reminded of the Christmas spirit, and are filled with joy. The lights, the glitter, the colors, all make people happy. When I look at a Christmas tree, I am reminded of how gluttonous we Americans have become. We tear down the forest, and kill trees that have been living for years just to stare at it in our house. It is ridiculous, yet it is socially not accepted to not participate in such activities. We have a fake tree at our house, partially due to allergies, and partially due to laziness. It is much easier to have the same tree every year, stored away in a nice box, ready to be free at the first sight of snow.

This time of year, I am amazed at how much money, effort, and time people put into adorning their homes with CHristmas embellishments. Some people fill their entire yards with unnecessary items.

I find it quite unnerving that the word, starvation exists. If people can afford hundreds of dollars to make their yard light up, they can surely spend a few dollars to feed children. I am no saint,the majority of what I buy is frivolous, and will probably be forgotten within the year. Most of what Americans buy is not necessary, simply junk to occupy our dim minds.

Christmas starts in September, and by the time December is here, I am sick of it already. I used to love Christmas, but years of working retail has made it unpleasant. I still like the idea of Christmas, and 100 years ago, would have had quite a fondness for it. Things were different 100 years ago; people appreciated little things, Christmas wasn't about who has the biggest tree, and the best lights. It meant more, and was treasured. Now, it is about money, and numbers, percentages, and statistics.

Just think about what is really important. If lights, and dead trees are of great value to you, by all means- use those kilowatts and murder the trees.

Choice

Life is but a series of consequences based on reactions to situations. Life gives us a list of choices, it is the option we deem as right that defines the outcome. Even by not making a choice, we have inevitably made the choice to, not. Life itself is a choice. We have the power to end it as we see fit. Our presence on Earth;however, was not our choice, it was that of a greater being. Some would argue it was due to a substance, or loud irruption. Whatever the case may be, it is not an oversight that we are here. There is a purpose behind every vein, and outline of your complexion.

We have an innate desire to love, and be loved. At times, we chose to deliver the absence of which-creating hate. It is easier to rest in what is naturally in us; therefore hatred is actually a more difficult emotion to yield. Love has the capacity to intimidate us. Our immediate reaction to fear is to turn from it. We have the opportunity to fabricate a new pattern.

Peace is what is left when distance from chaos is created; a mental tranquility within. When we are at peace, the flow of stillness is welcome. When we choose to be at peace, we subsequently chose to be content with all that is within. We are open for gratitude when we are in the state of quietness. It is easier to recognize the good in life, when we are quiet.

The choice to lift others in love is yours. So is the choice to lift yourself in love. Whether you believe in God or not, we all have the desire to be loved, and to harbor compassion.

Is life a collection of circumstances we must get though. Or, is life an opportunity to color our lives with choices that make up our character?

Belonging

I have always felt a bit out of place everywhere I go. In high school, I was never a part of the "cool crowd". I desperately tried to fit in, though, I failed. I also was never a part of the "reject" group. I did tend to lean more towards the latter of the two groups because it felt safe. I am older now, in college... and I still don't really "fit" anywhere. Sure, I have friends; however, I have a hard time fully expressing my inner being. I come across, I believe as rather ditzy, and not of high intelligence, because it's easier that way. It is easier to act as if I'm happy, and lacking brain cells, than it is to be real. There is a something quite vulnerable to admitting you feel, and hurt, and break.

I live in Colorado SPrings attending school, yet I do not feel that it is my home. About once a month I find myself visiting my family on the other side of the mountain... that isn't really home either. WHere is my home? People say home is where the heart is... well, what if your heart is broken? Does your home reside within the individual who took your love away? Perhaps no one is ever home. Perhaps we are just taking up space.