>I’m not feeling very keen on myself these days. It seems like I’m spending my days counting out pills, soaking in hot water and using heating pads to manage my pain issues, which leaves no desire or time for looking or even feeling like a human being. It’s not helping that my home health aid is on vacation, so I feel guilty for asking my family for extra daily help with things that other people take for granted. In short, I suppose you could say I have the holiday blues. I seem to be stuffing my face to cope with the holiday blues too, which is never something I did in the past, but an entire batch (two dozen) of cookies in my belly in three days says, “I’m unhappy and filling my void with sweets.”
So, to distract myself with happy thoughts, I’m writing a letter to Santa with my dream list of goodies. These are things I will probably never have (except Paris) but dreams are fun! Here we go….
A luxury trip to Paris is my dream. I’d love to stay in a big chateau so old that it would take months to learn all of the stories. I want to fatten up on rich French food, visit bakeries every day and eat pastries so fancy that they look like fine art. At night, I want to see the opera and ballet, and go to a formal ball of some kind. Then I want to tour the Louvre and explore Versailles like I have enough money and power to live in those places. I also want to visit the places where the French kings of my bloodline are buried.
When I come home from France, I want to buy a gorgeous old mansion in Maine or Massachusetts. Then I want to restore everything in it to the strictest historical standards within reason to later reopen it as a bed and breakfast. That way I can live on the property where I work and never have to drive anywhere. People will come from all over the world to experience an authentic vacation in historic New England. I could even give lectures about the mansion and the town to fulfill my desire to educate people about history. I will achieve financial security with this business venture too.
And then to reward all of my hard work on my fabulous New England bed and breakfast, I would want to get a pretty pink diamond.
A doctor that isn’t really a doctor.
A big meaty Spears.
…………… Wait a minute. Scratch that. Santa, I would trade all three of them in a heartbeat for another lifetime with my soldier.
Even when playing around with a dream Christmas list, material stuff doesn’t matter in the end. We’ve all been born and died numerous times but we never remember the stuff we accumulated during our lives. I’ve never done a reading for a person who thought, “Gee, I wish I still had my string of pearls,” or whatever the object was, unless it was something with emotional value from a loved one. Even then, wishing for the material thing never trumps wishing for contact with the loved one. I don’t remember many of my material possessions from previous lives but I remember my loved ones clearly. I remember the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. I remember his voice. So while ripping open presents on Christmas morning is fun, don’t let the material side of the holiday season cloud the real meaning of it. Love is what carries through time, not stuff.