Tuesday, December 29, 2015

KRAMPUS CHRISTMAS




An antidote to our relentless diet of Christmas sugar is the Krampus, a German/Austrian devil who comes to winter celebrations, usually on December 5, which is also Saint Nicholas' day. For a very long time in Bavaria and in the territories of the old Austro-Hungarian Empire, he’s been the dark companion to their Good Spirit of the season. He’s doubtless a good deal older than the red-coated, croizier-toting saint, with his horns, furry pelt, and long tongue. Krampus arrives to punish bad children, right beside Saint Nicholas, in, some commentators have noted, a kind of bad cop/good cop routine. He carries chains which he shakes and a bunch of birch twigs, with which he threatens punishment.
 


Old Christmas cards from the region, especially from the 19th Century, show Krampus—sometimes portrayed as a female—delivering spankings in classic bondage attire. However, I believe that Krampus is in essence, male, particularly because of the enormous horns, trophies taken from the iconic mountain Steinbock, which are usually part of the headgear. Surviving from ancient times, despite more than a thousand years of intervening Christianity, there’s still a magnificent horned god who dances in German streets during this cold, sunless time. 




 Nature, in the form of the Teutonic Goddess, Mother Perchta, is no longer fertile, no longer generous to her children. The Wheel of the Year has turned. Now she whips the land with winds, ice, and snow. The birch is sacred to her, and is represented by the rune Berkana.  Are these demonic creatures wielding birch rods her minions?
Are they  avengers--or the agents--of Evil? After all, they are said to carry bad children away in sacks for late-night snacks! 
Are they chasing Winter away or are they the pain and cruelty of Winter itself?

The answers to these questions were lost a very long time ago. 


For the second part of my “Magic Colours” series I wanted to create a shape-shifting creature who lived in the Austrian Alps. Krampus came at once to mind, so I decided to use his legend, changing it here and there to fit my ideas about the character. 

In Black Magic, a disillusioned young soldier, Goran, returns home from the Napoleonic wars to find his family estate semi-abandoned in the wake of more than a decade of European war. During the "year without summer" (1816) thousands of  people in the northern hemisphere sickened and starved, for beside the cold and dark, there were torrential rains. (We now know this was caused by the cataclysmic eruption of the Tambora volcano.) In the alps, all the extra precipitation caused devastating avalanches.
Home at last, depressed, and aimlessly wandering, Goran stumbles into the seasonal celebrations of his tenants. It appears to be a traditional Summer Solstice party, celebrating the start of a warm and sunny year. There is food, beer and the possibility of sex, but after the talk, the drinking and dancing, he finds, too late, that he's walked into a trap. His tenant farmers have their own ideas about what their newly returned young lord can do for them.
When he awakens the next day, he finds himself changed into a sort of local god, not only the horny talisman of fertility, but an avenger of wrongs, a caretaker of man and beast. Now another link in an ageless chain, Goran will “wear the horns” and share, whether he likes it or not, the life of all who dwell on his  mountain.


~Juliet Waldron
 http://www.julietwaldron.com/
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Monday, December 28, 2015

Fear of Snowmen: Winter Confessions by Connie Vines

It is the holiday season.  Jingle Bells, Santa Claus, Reindeer, Mugs of Hot Chocolate, and Snowmen.
Snowmen?

Now just wait a second, no one mentioned there were going to be any Snowmen!

Yes, I must confess I have a phobia.  My phobia has a name, too. Hominochionophobia.

It is an odd fear and since I reside in southern California, a fear I can avoid/ ignore—except during the winter holidays.  The reason I cannot ignore my odd little phobia during the winter is because Hominochionophobia is a fear of snowmen.

Here in the United States, snowmen are everywhere during the holidays.  On the daily news, imprinted on paper plates, fashioned into huge inflatables on people’s front lawns.  You get the idea.
What most people see.

In my world, snowmen Christmas cards are turned so that only the back of the card faces outward, no snowmen decorations or ornaments are allowed in the house. Under no circumstances can I be expected to watch any television shows or movies revolving around snowmen.

Over the several years, I have been working on overcoming this fear. Why?  Because the school counselor thought I needed an intervention.  Yep, you guessed it.  The entire administrative staff gathered around my desk, singing “Frosty the Snowman”.  Oh, it gets even better.  They were all wearing top hats, and a pointy snowman nose was fastened to each one of their excited faces. They leaned over me and  I nearly had a panic attack when I jumped from my chair.

What I see.
I began with tiny steps.

I made progress.

I drew glasses on the faces of the snowmen on Christmas cards.

I was able to look at gift-wrap covered with pictures of snowmen.

I didn't glance way when we drove past lighten displays.

I thought I had everything under control.

Then it happened!

Play the “screeching violin in Alfred Hitchcock’s bloody Psycho shower scene” here.

My reaction when we meet!
Four days ago, I attended my brother’s Christmas Eve party.

I was okay upon spying the welcome mat with the prominent face of a snowman. I stepped on the mat, instead of leaping over the top, or darting around the edges.  I even commented on the snowman’s very large top hat as a tree topper being a showstopper when I stepped inside the entryway.  Sugar cookies decorated as snowmen, on the appetizer table, no problem.

After the wonderfully prepared buffet dinner and before the children opened their gifts, I went to the powder room.

Play the “screeching violin” again, only much, much louder!

I stepped inside the large room, locked the door and turned around.

I did not scream. I did jump and turn around and bump into a snowman on the counter.  There were snowman towels, snowman rugs—snowmen everything!  My vision became a bit fuzzy but I did not hyperventilate.

I regained my composure, washed my hands and sedately exited the powder room.

However, I must have looked a little wild-eyed when we gathered together for pictures because my sister-in-law exclaimed, “Didn’t anyone warn Aunt Connie?”

This snowman is life size!  


Happy New Year,

Connie Vines

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See you next month.

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Sunday, December 27, 2015

IN 2016, I CHOOSE TO BELIEVE IN MAGIC - by Vijaya Schartz



Most of us do believe in magic, and most of us will never admit it. We use other words for it, and prefer to call it Christmas miracles, sheer luck, pure coincidence, fate, serendipity, or the result of positive thinking. These things happen out of the blue, against all odds, a terrible catastrophe averted, a miraculous recovery, a ray of hope in the most desperate situations, a life-saving intervention, an unexpected act of bravery... it's usually for the better.

Sometimes we give credit to someone else, a good Samaritan, a guardian angel, or God, and we are grateful and give thanks. Truth be told, we as simple human beings are more powerful than we give ourselves credit for, and if we only believed in our own power, we could wield our own magic.

Our brains are the most complex and powerful machines. They can make us feel joy, love, pain, sadness, and sometimes even make us see what is not there. Our brains can transport us through time with vivid memories, and into strange, unknown worlds when we read a story or watch a movie. Our attitude can also influence the people and the world around us. Successful people often attribute their windfalls to a positive attitude.

I prefer to call it magic. The magic of a smile, of a random act of kindness, the power to believe that we deserve to be happy, loved, respected, recognized for our achievements, and so does everyone else.

So this coming year, I want to focus on the positive, believe that good things are coming my way, and that we shall all be happy, loved, healthy, and prosperous.

Wishing you all a magic year in 2016.

Vijaya Schartz
Blasters, Swords, Romance with a Kick

In the meantime, you can experience true magic by reading BELOVED CRUSADER, Book 6 (standalone) in the Curse of the Lost Isle medieval fantasy romance series, available everywhere in eBook and in paperback.

Saturday, December 26, 2015

A time for contemplation--Tricia McGill

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Well Christmas is over and once again it is time to think about the coming New Year festivities. I hope your day was as wonderful as you hoped it would be. And I sincerely hope that your day was spent with your loved ones.

As I write this in my study in Australia (on the 24th) with my ceiling fan going and the temperature hovering around 30degC (86degF) I am singing along with the guy on the radio as he croons about sleigh bells ringing and snow in the lane outside while dreaming of a white Christmas. This is funny really as I haven’t seen snow in over 30 years, and don’t wish to. I did love snow as a child but from memory it seldom snowed on Christmas day in London and doubt it does these days either with the climate warming.
My magnificent bougainvillea
Christmas time means different things to all people. Mainly it is a time for family. I tend to think too much about those who are not as fortunate as I, the homeless, the lonely, or sick. My sister has spent two Christmas days in hospital over the years and there is nothing as depressing as being hospitalized on this special day.

I tend to spend a lot of time around this period of the year contemplating on Christmas’s past. I guess it has something to do with getting older, as I am not alone in this, I know. Being the youngest in a large, boisterous family my memories of my childhood Christmases are all good. I believed in Santa and certainly did not believe it when told by an uncaring older cousin that there was no such thing as Father Christmas. Looking back, that’s really a very cruel truth to tell a child. No, this could not be, and to this day I still believe that Santa does exist. Of course he does, if only in our imaginations. It’s part of the wonder of childhood, that belief that he has all those elves helping him to make the presents and then he delivers them to every far-flung corner of the world in his sleigh. But with this belief and adulthood comes the truth, and the story begins to unravel. There is far too much poverty and starvation in the world and there must be multitudes who are just wondering where their next meal is coming from, and not what Santa is bringing them.

I watched the ads on my TV and heard stories from friends of the massive waste that goes on around this time and despair, especially when I see the amount of food being bought and consumed. Not to mention the expensive gifts some children asked Santa to bring them. Most of my gifts were made my members of my family, and were cherished for this reason. Very few people seem to make gifts anymore and the children are more than satisfied with their I Pods, computer games and high-tech gizmos. Except for the very small who are still happier to play with the box the toy came in than the gift itself.

Wouldn’t the world be a better place if these indulgent parents who spend a fortune on their children encouraged them to give up at least some of their gifts to the poor, homeless and sick?

So, this time of year brings those contemplations. While walking my dogs this morning I counted my many blessings. Here I was walking, as I do every day, with six pins holding my lower spine in shape, so that is my main blessing to count, plus being fated to live in a country where there are expert surgeons to perform such miracles, and where I am given access to their aid. I sit here able to see my words as I type, another blessing indeed. I lay down to rest each night in my comfortable bed in my home that my husband and I had built with money we were able to earn by living in a society free of restrictions.

I’ve received a 2016 diary from a friend which contains a wealth of advice that I will treasure. As I turn the page each day I will find a phrase or saying to live each day by. I have found one at random that seems a perfect gem for each and every one us. “Think lightly of yourself and deeply of the world.”

There are also some words of wisdom on how to plan for a longer life.

“See the glass half full.” Ok, that’s me, ever the optimist. Apparently we recover faster from illness.

“Find true love.” So far, so good.

“Exercise” As mentioned above, I walk every day so should improve my physical and mental health.

“Have a social circle.” That is another of my blessings, I cherish my friends and family and know there is always someone I can call on for help if needed.

“Have a pet.” Wouldn’t be without my furry babies. They help to keep my blood pressure down, listen with interest to my grumbles, know my every mood, and they make me laugh.

“Laugh a lot.” I thank the Lord that I have laughed well through my life and continue to see the funny side of things. So that accounts for me not getting overly stressed about minor issues. My motto is, if it can’t be changed then don’t be fussed about it.

There are a few more words of advice but these just about cover the main ones to live by. I’ve just found another phrase that really hits the nail on the head. “Once you’ve accepted your flaws, no one can use them against you.” All in all, I should be around for a few more years.

All that remains is for me to wish you the compliments of the season, no matter how you celebrate this time of the year, and may all your wishes come true in 2016. And don’t forget that each day is a gift and should be lived to the fullest. And count your blessings.


Friday, December 25, 2015

The Power of Christmas: The Christmas Truce, 1914


The meaning of Freedom is starkly and brilliantly demonstrated in Mikki Sadil's Civil War Era novel, The Freedom Thief.  If you haven't read this one you are missing a novel you will not forget - it's written from a young adult viewpoint, but this novel is for everyone, everywhere.


What does Christmas mean to you?

To many, particularly in the last 30 or 40 years, it represents the "Spirit of Giving", which to kids, means gifts and plenty of them; to adults...many of them...it means charity and charitable donations they can deduct from their income tax.
   On the battlefront of the long ago days of World War One, Christmas meant much more, and in the long run, that 'much more' became the saving of many lives on both sides of enemy trenches.

                                                            The Background:

   The first five months of World War I was an enigma to both German and Allied forces. In the lower ranks there reigned supreme discontent, confusion, and unanswered questions as to what these men, on both sides, were fighting and dying for. German troops attacked through Belgium into France, but were repulsed outside of Paris by both French and British troops. No matter which side initiated a battle, neither side progressed as those in command thought they should. Allied and German troops were met with stalemates when neither side would give ground, and neither side could outwit or outfight the other. The "Race to the Sea", as the commanders called it, was little more than an exercise in frustration, as both sides continued to push forward but maintained little progress.

                                                           Fraternization:

     Fraternization, the peaceful and sometimes even friendly interactions between opposing German and Allied forces, became a regular feature during the early months of this war. Sometimes, it manifested itself as merely passive aggression, where neither side would engage in threatening behavior. Other times, it included conversations and occasional visits from one force's trench lines to the other. The main reason this was so convenient for both sides is that the trenches were seldom more than forty feet apart...Germans in one trench, British or French in the other. The forty feet between these trenches became known as "No Man's Land," and were considered to be neutral territory.
    By November, 1914, both sides were having their rations brought to the front lines after dark, and there was observed a period of peace while soldiers collected their food. In early December of that year, a German surgeon recorded a regular half-hour truce each evening, in which each side recovered their dead, and French and German soldiers exchanged bits of news from the home front.
    When news of these peaceful interactions reached the highest ranking officers of both the Allied and German armies, they were quickly repulsed, and word was passed down on both sides that such fraternization must cease immediately. If not, those involved would be militarily punished forthwith. For the most part, that order was ignored. On December 7th, 1914, Pope Benedict XV asked that "the guns may fall silent at least upon the night the angels sing." Officially, this request was rebuffed by both Allied and German commanders.

                                                         Christmas, 1914

    By December, 1914, there were approximately 100,000 British and German troops maintaining unofficial and unapproved cessations of hostility along the Western Front. The first truce was held on the Belgian front in a small, ancient town called Ypres. As dark fell on Christmas Eve, British  troops saw lights glowing across No Man's Land. The Germans had cut down small pine trees and decorated them with candles, as well as lining the outside edges of their  trenches with more candles. British soldiers gathered along the edges of their own trenches to listen as German voices reached them across the small piece of neutral territory.
                   Stille nacht, hellige nacht...
    The British looked at each other in confusion, never having heard those words before. Then one of the men translated: Silent night, holy night...
     They smiled and applauded as the song finished. One of the British began singing
                   The first Nowell, the angel did say...
     Immediately, all the British joined in, and when they finished, applause came from the German trenches. Then, the German voices rose again in song...
                    O Tannenbaum, o Tannebaum...
    When the song ended, the British applauded, and began singing again...
                    O Come all ye faithful...
    This time, however, the Germans joined in, singing in Latin...
                    Adeste Fideles...
    When the singing ended, both sides began shouting Christmas greetings to one another. A few minutes later, a German soldier stood and held a large sign over his head. In crudely printed English, the sign said, "We no shoot, you no shoot." He ventured slowly out into No Man's Land, still holding up the sign. A few of the Brits put down their rifles, and carefully went out to meet him. When no shots were fired from either side, more and more men, sworn to be enemies, chose to lose that fateful epithet for the time being, and joined in the celebration.
     The truce continued through Christmas Day, with soldiers from both sides exchanging small gifts, such as food, tobacco, alcohol, even such things as hand-knitted socks and scarves sent from both British and German families. Stories were shared about Christmases at home, and the traditions of each country, as well as family experiences. Soldiers teamed up together for ball games, with both sides on one team. Finally, in the late afternoon, both sides went out onto the battlefield to bring back the bodies of their recently slain comrades. British and Germans held joint services for their fallen friends. Hostilities were forgotten. As night drew near, they shook hands with one another, and retreated back into their own wet and muddy trenches, knowing that the dawn of the new day would end new-found friendships, and the fighting and killing would begin once again.

                                                           Christmas, 1914:
                                                      Along the Western Front

    Ypres was not the only place where hostilities ceased on that remarkable Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, in the year 1914. It was simply the most historical. All along the Western Front, in muddy battlefields, in the broken houses destroyed by both Allied and German fire, across narrow inlets of water, German, French, Belgian, and British forces simply ceased fire. In many places, the soldiers met on neutral ground, chatted, exchanged Christmas stories and pleasantries; in others, where neutrality was difficult to come by, there was, at least, a mingling of minds across the battlefield, and for twenty-four hours or more, all fighting ceased.
     The prevailing attitude of all the men, no matter where they came from, seemed to be the question "Why are we here killing each other?" Even the higher-ranking officers of all the forces seemed unable to answer that question. They were merely following the orders of those who prevailed as Commanders-in-Chief, and who were not in the middle of death and destruction.
     The Cease Fire lasted until the late hours of Christmas Day. In the early morning light of December 26th, 1914, the battles began again, as men who had sworn to be enemies, yet had become friends for twenty-four hours, started shooting at one another once more.
      The amazing thing about this Christmas Truce was that for many days following, in Ypres, Belgium, and in other places along the Western Front, the death toll dropped. It seemed that the men of the Allied Armies, and those of the German Army, had suddenly forgotten how to hit a target.

                                                       Christmas, 2015

    Today, our world seems consumed with fear. Terrorism is the primary thought in everyone's mind, no matter how we try to hide it. It is an enemy we don't yet know how to fight, for it is not so simple as seeing someone you are supposed to hate across forty yards of muddy ground.

    My prayer for all of you, Americans and Canadians...as well as any others who may read this blog...is that for today, live in the true Spirit of Christmas. Enjoy your families and friends, and remember that Christmas is really all about the Spirit of Love, Hope, Joy, and Peace. Make that remembrance the focus of your lives, and put fear where it belongs...in the back of the closet. We can't ignore the face of Terrorism, but we are stronger than Terror is, and we, Americans and Canadians, will prevail in the face of Evil.

   Remember: The Force is With You! And so is the Power of Christmas.

   Merry Christmas Everyone!

   Mikki Sadil


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It’s the first day of December, snow is in the air and Gracie Singleton Saylor is shopping for a Christmas tree, when she runs smack into Merett Bradmoore, her High School hero and his seven-year-old daughter. Seeing he’s not the happy-go-lucky guy he used to be, she’s determined to restore the gift of optimism he gave her fifteen years ago. But can she return his hope without losing her own?









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As far as twelve-year old Quinn is concerned Christmas has lost its magic. Since his father’s death life has lost its sparkle. His mom is now a widow struggling to put food on the table. Quinn is no help, and the mysterious illness afflicting him only makes things worse. Even Christmas, complete with decorated trees, ribbons and bows have no meaning…then along comes Jazira.













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Wednesday, December 23, 2015

THE ADVENT CALENDAR by Victoria Chatham



Over the years my Christmases haven’t been built so much on traditions as memories.

My earliest recollections of Christmas are at my grandmother’s house with a passel of assorted relatives and friends. Gran always had a real tree, with real candles placed in holders shaped liked peacocks with long feathery tales. Health and Safety measures today would have those banned in a flash! Lighting the candles was always the task of the man of the house. Being war time and with most of the men in the family being spread throughout the forces, this would be the task of any male who was lucky enough to have home leave.

As an adult with a family of my own I made sure that Christmas was a really fun time for my kids. One year we built our own Advent calendar. It started with a long piece of wallpaper taped the length of the dining room wall and a big star which had to be moved each day to indicate the progress of Wise Men’s journey as they followed the star to Bethlehem.


Each day we added something, one of the Wise Men riding his camel, or a sheep or two. The Wise Men’s robes and turbans were cut out from fabric scraps and re-purposed jewelry. Wool to make the camels realistic came from real sheep’s wool pulled from the barbed wire fences around their field. Trees were made using twigs and leaves picked up during a walk through the woods. A lot of glue was necessary for this procedure.

As the scene progressed so did the number of neighbor kids who wanted to help build the calendar. We had many discussions as to how many hills the Wise Men would have traveled over and how wide the desert was. Real sand and small pebbles came into the picture here. A swipe of paste on the paper, then the kids stood back and threw sand at it. A lot stuck but I was thankful to have a tiled dining room floor to make the resulting clean up easy. The final scene was the one we had the most fun with as we added the ox and the ass making them tactile with unraveled knitting wool in appropriate colors and cut into suitable lengths for fur. The angel over the stable had real wings, courtesy of the neighbor’s flock of white chickens which almost went into shock when they saw a dozen kids advancing on their run to collect their fallen feathers.

The children were all concerned that the final scene of Baby Jesus in the manger be done properly. They chose to make a straw doll and wrap it in a length of bandage for the swaddling clothes. None of them wanted to miss out on placing Baby Jesus in his manger, a collage of crisscrossed drinking straws and real straw, so on Christmas morning I had a house full of children and their parents in to finish the calendar. Hot chocolate for the kids, coffee laced with a little something for the adults, cookies aplenty and good will all round.

After Christmas the calendar was carefully taken down and rolled up. The kids talked about it so much when they went back to school that one of the teachers asked me about it and came to our house to see it. His excitement was palpable as we unrolled it. My kids explained what we had made each day and who had helped and how they’d had to discourage one eager participant from putting a red post box in the desert as they hadn’t been invented yet. Rather than be relegated to our attic until the next year, that calendar went off to school where it was enjoyed and embellished for several years more.

But the fun we had building it never lost the sense of reverence for the meaning behind it. I don’t even know if any of the children involved in its construction would remember it now with as much fondness as do I. Of all my Christmases, wherever they have been or whoever I have spent them with, that is my most vivid Christmas memory of all.


Merry Christmas to all of you and a happy, healthy and successful New Year!





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