Once upon a time there was a strange feeling in the air. It happened every year, it started a few days after the shortest day of the year – in the western world. A certain evening was completely different from all other evenings, and the following night made the change even more enchanting. Maybe some of us remember it , but it seems to have left our sphere.

The world became silent, as if holding its breath. The silence came on, despite all traffic and other noises. One could hear the silence – and on with it came the holiness of the first holy night. It didn’t matter whether it was a snow-white night or a rainy one. It didn’t matter whether one went to church at midnight or not. It didn’t matter whether the meal was rich or poor… The holiness came on by itself and cloaked us with this enchanting inexpressible atmosphere of holiness.

The longing for it is still there, and is being searched in strong outer decoration that must keep these fading memories alive. Pine-scent, candles, wonderfully wrapped presents, heavy meals, family gatherings… This must bring us the remembrances of a time that is not even so long ago.

When becoming older, lots of beloved memories maybe lose their reality. But these are the personal memories of life. What I mean now is not a personal memory, but a fragrance that has been blown away by the storm of our rude way of living.

We could, however, try to ‘inspire’ it back to us…
‘By giving the mean a high notion,
The ordinary a mysterious appearance,
The well-known the grandeur of the unknown,
The finite an infinite gleam,
I romanticize it.’
Friedrich von Hardenberg (Novalis), 1772 – 1801

Modern people may have a horror of this kind of fantasy. The intensifying of feelings should then be sought in making more noise rather than in expanding the silence, and romanticise it. But if we really try to follow this receipt of spiritualisation, to become able to inspire the true Christmas feelings, we will find back what we seem to have lost.

Endless eyes of the night… by Mieke Mosmuller