In early December, I went to Sicily for a week. It was a strange visit. Just days before, I had launched my new political project, so I was still all engrossed in it, in its consequences, in the feedback it was receiving, in what it means for my life. Also, my host K was a little strange — initially I had thought that something might happen between us, if only a fling, something for this holiday. But she ended up being strangely distant. Not sure why. She also had much less time for me than I thought she would. All in all, it was a weird week.
Then, during the two weeks between that trip and the Christmas break, I was constantly traveling, too. I went to Munich to take care of things, and go to my old company’s Christmas party. I also went to my parents, to work with my father on the new rooms in the country house. I went to see my cousin at the other end of the country. I also finally may have found an apartment that I can buy. And then as everyone was getting ready to go home for the holidays, the attack with that truck happened in Berlin. And I was mad. Not at the lunacy of the idiotic terrorist. There is no point in getting angry at people who want to make you angry. But angry at the media, and at how they’re playing the terrorists’ and the Right Wing Scare Mongerers’ (who are, of course, in cahoots with them) games. I complained about it on the web and got some surprisingly strong support.
These past days, over Christmas, I’ve been with my parents. And for the first time in many years, a lonely visit at my parents’ place for Christmas has not been a problem. I think I have made a breakthrough. I understand now that life is ultimately about one thing, and one thing only: it’s about our connections with other people. Nothing else. And so I can manage to celebrate my connection with my parents this Christmas. Nothing more, nothing less. Christmas used to make me sad because I felt like I was not bringing them what they could (and maybe should) expect from me: a family of my own, and children who enjoy the magic and the miracle of Christmas, like I used to. But this year, I am no longer thinking of that. Instead, I am realizing that my job is to be with them, and to enjoy that, and to make them see that I am enjoying that. That’s all.
This is a good thing. This is a good Christmas. Despite all the fear and idiocy in the world.