Living in India every season was an indulgence of sorts, where the aesthetic developed through time and culture just made it so tasteful. The changing seasons brought their challenges and delights. In winter we wrapped up in woolens, wore silly hats and stretched out socks--we had no heating. And the eating was good as digestion was at its best. So many winter culinary delights cooked in ghee and served hot throughout the markets. There was also struggle, chilblains on cold feet and the many widows wore plastic bags for shoes--a common sight. Still the seasonal aesthetic and joy provoked carried us through sublimely.
I am going about Christmas here in the UK as a season with its various tastes, enjoying a bit of shopping without becoming a slave of consumerism or a lamb drawn to slaughter by the hype and consequent debt. Neither do I buy the reductionism of the season to one pivotal and climatic day--the 25th, which is just another day really. However I do enjoy the religious interpretation and culture of song and nativity, but not its sole claim to the season and 'the day’; that in itself came about by an appropriation through religious colonialism. So here's to our vegetarian mince pies and gathering round the tree with those near and dear. And as for the hype and capitalist consumerism, the now colonizer of souls, you need to back off because you are turning seasonal cheer into endless human suffering.