Christmas Eve. Magi travelling. Those magi fascinate me, they do, they really do…priests, warriors, interpreters of dreams, seekers, bearers of prophetic gifts.I can't travel. I have no camel or horse. And, anyhow, this kind of journeying is not done in the physical realm. So this is a contemplative, inward day for me. Yeah, yeah, I know – you’re all racing round like headless chickens doing a ton of cooking and preparation. Ah, the bliss of a simple Christmas, huh?
James and I might bake a few mince pies later. I have also promised a cheesecake (a proper baked one) as nobody here likes Christmas pudding and, seeing as it’s only the three of us this year, well, we suit ourselves. But it’s hardly arduous. So that leaves…time. A fire, of course. Rosemary in from the garden – for remembrance of the dear ones who won’t be with us (Mum enjoyed last night btw, when friends dropped by unexpectedly and said hello to her). Tiny lights sparkling. Frankincense winding tendrils through the house.
Shall I go to midnight mass? Probably not. More likely I’ll just muse and meditate and think about journeys…about magi…
One of my earliest Christmas memories is of my father singing We Three Kings in his deep brown bass voice. This is a Celtic instrumental version which I rather love…
Now then, The Three Kings (from Persian Lands Afar)… We sang this carol at school and it always chokes me. I can’t find a version that really encapsulates the spine-tingling quality of this. But this isn’t bad…
And my other magic Magi song…
Yeah, you know my Christmas message alright. Don't you? Love. And magi... (of course).
