Oh, December. The month where everything smells like cinnamon and despair. It's a weird little season, isn’t it? One foot in the glow of twinkly lights, the other in a puddle of existential dread about the year’s unpaid bills and unmet goals. For those of us who dabble in witchcraft—or just like to embrace the darker half of the year—it’s the perfect time to retreat, recharge, and reflect. Basically, December is prime "leave me alone with my book" season.
Now, let’s talk about the elephant in the Yuletide room: Christmas. Or, as I like to call it, the Great Capitalist Sacrifice. There’s something about the way society shifts into overdrive this time of year that makes me itch. People running around like caffeine-fueled madmen, maxing out credit cards to give their kids an avalanche of gifts they won’t remember come February. Do you know what they will remember? The twinkling lights, the smell of cookies baking, the silly songs, and the love that fills the room. That’s it. The kids don’t care if you got them the MegaTech SuperBlaster 3000 or the generic version from aisle five. They care that you played with them and made them laugh until their cheeks hurt.
As a witch, or just a human being with an ounce of common sense, I can’t help but cringe at how even the pagan community has bought into this consumerist chaos. Yule is supposed to be about celebrating the return of the light, the turning of the wheel, and the coziness of connection. But instead, I see people stressing over hand-carved athames and crystals that they must buy. Newsflash: you can celebrate the season without burning a hole in your wallet. Your ancestors did it with some evergreen branches, a candle, and a song.
And this brings me to the real spell we need to cast as a society: redefining what “enough” means. Somewhere along the line, we decided that "enough" looks like piles of stuff and glittering excess. But what if "enough" was a warm meal, a good book, and a moment of stillness? What if "enough" was less about consuming and more about connecting? Personally, I’d like to see us all scale back to something smaller, something simpler, something that doesn’t leave us with a spiritual hangover come January.
So, as the year winds down, let’s make a pact. Let’s stop peopling so hard. Let’s curl up with a book, a blanket, and maybe a mug of something warm and witchy (mulled wine, anyone?). Let’s focus on the magic of what we already have instead of the illusion of what we’re told we need. The winter solstice reminds us that even the darkest nights eventually give way to light. Maybe it’s time we let that light illuminate our priorities.
Here’s to a holiday season that feels less like a marathon and more like a meditation. Sparkle on, my witchy friends—but maybe leave the credit card in the freezer this time.
Christmas is coming
And tescos getting fat
Please put a million in and don’t forget the VAT
The lights they are all sparkly
The credit card is full
The children play with boxes
While their mother hits the Gin
We should be all together
Round the tree, the carols sing
But we all just stare at iPads
And are waiting for that ping
If you celebrate the sun rise
On December 21st
Then I hope you learn the lesson
And close the strings into your purse
For yuletide’s about sharing,
Cwtching up with those you love
And not about whose got the most
Its just about Enough.
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