MISTLETOE

The origin of the word, "mistletoe" is just as complex and obscure as the botany and folklore surrounding the mistletoe plants. The word originated from the perception in pre-scientific Europe that mistletoe plants sprang spontaneously from the excrement of the "mistel" (or "missel") thrush.  People noticed that mistletoe plants would often appear on a twig where these birds had left their excrement.

The "-toe" suffix was originally "tan" and meant "twig". Mistle-toe, then, is literally the "twig of the mistel thrush." Some scholars extend the etymological dissection further, pointing out that the name of the mistel thrush appears to derive from an Indo-European root for excrement; thus they argue that mistletoe is literally the "dung twig." Not exactly a word origin in keeping with the romantic reputation of mistletoe!

We now know that the seeds of European mistletoe plants germinate only after being digested and passed through the guts of birds.  Observation has confirmed that the berry of mistletoe plants is a favorite treat of the mistel thrush. So while their reasoning was somewhat askew, the ancients were justified in naming mistletoe plants after the bird most responsible for its dissemination.

Mistletoe has also found fame in literature. Two of the better-known books of the Western tradition feature a particular mistletoe shrub -- a mistletoe shrub given the name of "golden bough."

In Virgil's "Aeneid," the Roman hero, Aeneas, makes use of this "golden bough" at a critical juncture of the book. The "golden bough" was to be found on a special tree in the grove sacred to Diana, at Nemi; a tree containing a mistletoe plant. The prophetess Sibyl instructed Aeneas to pluck this magic bough before attempting his descent into the underworld. Sibyl knew that, with the aid of such magic, Aeneas would be able to undertake the perilous venture with confidence. Two doves guide Aeneas to the grove and alight upon the tree, "from which shone a flickering gleam of gold. As in the woods in the cold winter the mistletoe -- which puts out seed foreign to its tree -- stays green with fresh leaves and twines its yellow fruit about the boles; so the leafy gold seemed upon the shady oak, so this gold rustled in the gentle breeze." ("Aeneid" VI, 204-209).

The title of Sir James G. Frazer's anthropological classic, "The Golden Bough" (1922), derives from that scene in Virgil's Aeneid. But how, you might ask, can something green like mistletoe become associated with the color gold? According to Frazer, mistletoe could become a "golden bough" because when the plants die and wither they acquire a golden hue.  The perception of gold in the dried leaves of mistletoe plants was probably influenced by folklore in which it was said that mistletoe is brought to earth when lightning strikes a tree in a blaze of gold

The Danes who visited Cornwall in the 7th century brought with them their version of the winter solstice tale:

The god of light, joy, purity, beauty, innocence, and reconciliation. Son of Odin and Frigg, he was loved by both gods and men and was considered to be the best of the gods. He had a good character, was friendly, wise and eloquent, although he had little power. His wife was Nanna daughter of Nep, and their son was Forseti, the god of justice. Balder's hall was Breidablik ("broad splendor").

Most of the stories about Balder concern his death. He had been dreaming about his death, so Frigg extracted an oath from every creature, object and force in nature (snakes, metals, diseases, poisons, fire, etc.) that they would never harm Balder. All agreed that none of their kind would ever hurt or assist in hurting Balder. Thinking him invincible, the gods enjoyed themselves thereafter by using Balder as a target for knife-throwing and archery.

The malicious trickster, Loki, was jealous of Balder. He changed his appearance and asked Frigg if there was absolutely nothing that could harm the god of light. Frigg, suspecting nothing, answered that there was just one thing: a small tree in the west that was called mistletoe. She had thought it was too small to ask for an oath. Loki immediately left for the west and returned with the mistletoe. He tricked Balder's blind twin brother Hod into throwing a mistletoe fig (dart) at Balder. Not knowing what he did, Hod threw the fig, guided by Loki's aim. Pierced through the heart, Balder fell dead.

While the gods were lamenting Balder's death, Odin sent his other son Hermod to Hel, the goddess of death, to plead for Balder's return. Hel agreed to send Balder back to the land of the living on one condition: everything in the world, dead or alive, must weep for him. And everything wept, except for Loki, who had disguised himself as the witch Thokk. And so Balder had to remain in the underworld.

The others took the dead god, dressed him in crimson cloth, and placed him on a funeral pyre aboard his ship Ringhorn, which passed for the largest in the world. Beside him they lay the body of his wife Nanna, who had died of a broken heart. Balder's horse and his treasures were also placed on the ship. The pyre was set on fire and the ship was sent to sea by the giantess Hyrrokin.

Loki did not escape punishment for his crime and Hod was put to death by Vali, son of Odin and Rind. Vali had been born for just that purpose. After the final conflict (Ragnarok), when a new world arises from its ashes, both Balder and Hod will be reborn.

Mistletoe became an early version of the peace pipe: When enemies meet under mistletoe in the forest, they have to lay down their arms and observe a truce until the next day.

The demise of Baldur, a vegetation deity in the Norse myths, brought winter into the world, although the gods did eventually restore Baldur to life.  After the gods restored Balder to life, Frigga pronounced the mistletoe sacred, ordering that from now on it should bring love rather than death into the world. Happily complying with Frigga's wishes, any two people passing under the plant from now on would celebrate Baldur's resurrection by kissing under the mistletoe.

The Christmas custom of kissing underneath a branch of mistletoe goes back at least hundreds of years, certainly to before the 17th century.  Strictly speaking, kissing under the mistletoe was never to get out of hand, and often nearly did.  To prevent abuses, the custom was defined as a man might steal a kiss under the hanging branch, but when he did, one berry was to be plucked from the plant and discarded.  Once the berries were gone, the kissing charm of the mistletoe branch was spent, although that aspect of the custom is rarely recalled in these days.  During the 19th century abuses of the kissing custom were prevalent, according to a verse called “The Mistletoe Bough.”

The Mistletoe Bough
by Thomas Haynes Bayley

The mistletoe hung in the castle hall,
The holly branch shone on the old oak wall;
And the baron's retainers were blithe and gay,
And keeping their Christmas holiday.
The baron beheld with a father's pride
His beautiful child, young Lovell's bride;
While she with her bright eyes seemed to be
The star of the goodly company.

'I'm weary of dancing now," she cried;
"Here, tarry a moment-I'll hide, I'll hide!
And, Lovell, be sure thou'rt first to trace
The clew to my secret lurking place."
Away she ran-and her friends began
Each tower to search, and each nook to scan;
And young Lovell cried, "O, where dost thou hide?
I'm lonesome without thee, my own dear bride."

They sought her that night, and they sought her next day,
And they sought her in vain while a week passed away;
In the highest, the lowest, the loneliest spot,
Young Lovell sought wildly-but found her not.
And years flew by, and their grief at last
Was told as a sorrowful tale long past;
And when Lovell appeared the children cried,
"See! the old man weeps for his fairy bride."

At length an oak chest, that had long lain hid,
Was found in the castle-they raised the lid,
And a skeleton form lay moldering there
In the bridal wreath of that lady fair!
0, sad was her fate!-in sportive jest
She hid from her lord in the old oak chest.
It closed with a spring!-and, dreadful doom,
The bride lay clasped in her living tomb!

 

Tinne (CHIN-yuh), holly - The holly (Ilex aquifolium L.) is a shrub growing to 35 feet in open woodlands and along clearings in forests. Hollies are evergreen, and stand out in winter among the bare branches of the deciduous forest trees that surround them. Hollies form red berries before Samhain which last until the birds finish eating them, often after Imbolc. The typical "holly leaf" is found on smaller plants, but toward the tops of taller plants the leaves have fewer spiny teeth. Hollies are members of the Holly family (Aquifoliaceae). The common holly is often cultivated in North America, as are hybrids between it and Asiatic holly species.

Graves (1966) and others are of the opinion that the original tinne was not the holly, but rather the holm oak, or holly oak (Quercus ilex L.). This is an evergreen oak of southern Europe that grows as a shrub, or as a tree to 80 feet. Like the holly, the holm oak has spiny-edged leaves on young growth. It does not have red berries, but it does have red leaf "galls" caused by the kermes scale insect; these are the source of natural scarlet dye.

Gort (GORT), ivy - Ivy (Hedera helix L.) is also a vine, growing to 100 feet long in beech woods and around human habitations, where it is widely planted as a ground cover. Ivy produces greenish flowers before Samhain on short, vertical shrubby branches. The leaves of these flowering branches lack the characteristic lobes of the leaves of the rest of the plant. Like holly, ivy is evergreen, its dark green leaves striking in the bare forests of midwinter. Ivy is widely cultivated and is a member of the Ginseng family (Araliaceae).

The info above on mistletoe, holly, and ivy are from A Cornish Christmas.

In 1828, the American minister to Mexico, Joel R. Poinsett, brought a red-and-green plant from Mexico to America. As its coloring seemed perfect for the new holiday, the plants, which were called poinsettias after Poinsett, began appearing in greenhouses as early as 1830. In 1870, New York stores began to sell them at Christmas. By 1900, they were a universal symbol of the holiday.

The History Channel

The ancient festival of Yule celebrated the winter solstice. This is the time when the days are shortest and the nights longest and so it is not surprising that fire and light defeating darkness play an important part of our yule celebrations. One old custom is that of the yule log which had to be found, not cut from the tree. The householders brought the log indoors on Christmas Eve. They set it in the fireplace, where it burned throughout the Christmas celebrations. In large houses they sometimes used a whole tree, with one end in the fireplace and the rest sticking out into the room. As the twelve days of Christmas passed the log was slowly fed into the fire.

This pre-Christian custom has now almost died out, but we still use candles in decoration.

(quoted from KIDS ARK)

 

Norway is the birthplace of the Yule log. The ancient Norse used the Yule log in their celebration of the return of the sun at winter solstice. "Yule" came from the Norse word hweol, meaning wheel. The Norse believed that the sun was a great wheel of fire that rolled towards and then away from the earth. Ever wonder why the family fireplace is such a central part of the typical Christmas scene? This tradition dates back to the Norse Yule log. It is probably also responsible for the popularity of log-shaped cheese, cakes, and desserts during the holidays.

Revised and reposted several times as part of my Saturnalia - Winter Solstice - Yule - Christmas series, this remains one of my favorites.

I spent a few minutes in the experimental kitchen last night, just long enough to run some apples through the food processor, throw a few ingredients together, and slide the pan above into the oven.  I didn't take notes at the time, but exact measures aren't important anyway.  I know I can adequately reconstruct the recipe or a reasonable facsimile.

You could use an ordinary pie shell, either from scratch, mix, or frozen.  Do they still sell those nifty pie crust sticks my mother used to use, and I used to eat raw, right out of the wrapper?  I wouldn't know, because I cruise right past that part of the supermarket since I've been on the gluten-free diet.  Here's what I use:

Into an 8- or 9-inch metal or glass pie pan, measure:

Whisk together in a cup or small bowl, with a fork or tiny wire whisk: (around here, forks are usually easier to find, and anywhere, anytime, a fork is easier to wash):

Pour milk/oil emulsion over the flour mixture in the pan, and mix thoroughly with a fork. 

It should come out moist and crumbly.  Under pressure, it should stick together and adhere to the sides of the pan.  Press the mixture evenly into the pan on sides and bottom.  I start that process with the fork to distribute and firm the mixture, and finish with the back of a spoon to smooth and compress it.

This quick and easy pie crust recipe works equally well substituting 1 cup ordinary wheat flour for the sorghum and bean flours, but then it's not gluten-free, of course.

Quarter, core and slice thinly:

Stir together with

Set aside fruit/spice/honey/molasses mixture to marinate and blend flavors while you prepare custard:

In a separate mixing bowl, slightly beat

Add and combine:

(Note:  variable measures of custard ingredients are intended to accommodate a larger or smaller pie pan.  I used the lesser amount and ended up wishing I'd used the larger because my pan could have held much more filling.  If you're using 2 cups milk, then 3 large or 4 medium eggs are appropriate.)

Spread fruit mixture in pie shell, then pour custard gently over it.  Bake at 325°F (160°C), about 35-45 minutes, until custard is firm in center ("firm" means no longer liquid).  Cool before cutting.

If using a standard wheat-based pastry crust, baking procedure and time are different.  Start in a preheated 450°F (230°C) oven, reduce heat to 325°F (160°C) immediately when you put the pie in the oven, and bake about half an hour, or a bit more, until done.

(Click any thumbnail to enlarge)

Trees and their boughs and branches, especially evergreens, have had symbolic significance for people since prehistory.

Ancient Egyptians celebrating the winter solstice, the shortest, darkest day of the year, when the sun begins its annual return, brought green date palms into their homes as a symbol of life triumphant over death.

Celtic Druids revered evergreens as manifestations of deity because they did not "die" from year to year but stayed green and alive when other plants appeared dead and bare. Conifers and sprigs of evergreen holly in the house represented everlasting life and hope for the return of spring. 

Ancient Romans decorated their homes with greens at the Festival of Saturnalia, their New Year, and exchanged evergreen branches with friends as a sign of good luck.  Part of the ceremony in the Temple of Saturn was the raising of an evergreen bough.

Norse pagans attached significance to plants that remained green under winter snows.  To the Norsemen, they symbolized the annual revival of the sun god Baldur.  Branches of evergreens placed over the door kept out witches, ghosts, evil spirits and the like.

The fir tree has a long association with Christianity, starting in Germany ca.675–754 C.E.  St. Boniface, an English missionary monk who converted the German people to Christianity, was said to have come across a group of pagans worshiping an oak tree. He is said to have cut down the oak tree in righteous rage.  To his amazement a young fir tree sprang up from the roots of the sacred oak. Boniface took this as a sign of the Christian faith supplanting older pagan beliefs.

During Advent in the eleventh century, scenes called mysteries, including one about Paradise, were very popular. A tree decorated with red apples symbolized the tree of Paradise.  The Dark Ages, Middle Ages and Renaissance across Northern Europe saw the evolution of elves and pagan gods into the Father Christmas/Santa Claus figure, and he was always associated with evergreens.   During the fifteenth century, the faithful began to put up trees in their own houses on December 24, the feast day of Adam and Eve.

Many sources agree that the earliest historically documented Christmas or New Years tree was in Riga, Latvia in 1510.  Little is known about the original Riga tree other than that it was decorated with paper flowers, attended by men wearing black hats, and after a ceremony in the Town Hall Square, they burnt the tree on a bonfire. This was a mixture of pagan and Christian custom, as were very many of the customs in Central/Northern Europe at that time.  Later in the 16th century, fir trees were brought indoors at Christmas time.  As one story goes, Martin Luther, on a solitary walk in the woods, was struck by the beauty of snow-laden firs in the moonlight.  Back at home, he took in a small tree and lit it with candles for the benefit of his children.

The first Christmas tree as we know it, but without lights still, appeared in Alsace, in the city of Selestat, in 1521.  Decorated trees were introduced in France by the Princess Hélène de Mecklembourg who brought one to Paris after her marriage to the Duke of Orleans.  In the eighteenth century, the custom of decorating a Christmas tree was well established in Germany, France and Austria.

Using small candles to light up the Christmas tree dates back to the middle of the seventeenth century.  Until about 1700, the use of Christmas trees appears to have been confined to the Rhine River District.  From 1700 on, when candles were accepted as part of the decorations, the Christmas tree was well on its way to becoming a tradition in Germany.  The first candles were glued with wax or pinned to the end of the tree branches.  Little lanterns and small candleholders (some with counterweights like the one pictured here) then appeared to make putting up the tapers easier.

The custom was only really firmly established, however, at the beginning of the nineteenth century in Germany and soon after in the Slavic countries of Eastern Europe.  Candle holders with clips appeared around 1890.  Glass balls and lanterns were created between 1902 and 1914.

The Christmas tree tradition most likely came to the United States with Hessian troops during the American Revolution, or with early German immigrants to Pennsylvania and Ohio.  A celebration around a Christmas tree on a bitter cold Christmas Eve at Trenton, New Jersey, might have turned the tide for Colonial forces in 1776.  According to legend, Hessian mercenaries were so reminded of home by a candlelit evergreen tree that they abandoned their posts to eat, drink and be merry. Washington attacked that night and defeated them.

Christmas trees were popularized in England and Western Europe after 1846 when Victoria and Albert were pictured in the Illustrated London News with their children, standing around a Christmas tree.  The Victorian fashion caught on gradually in the U.S., but not without some impediments.  The Puritans had totally banned Christmas in New England.  Even as late as 1851, a minister in Cleveland, Ohio nearly lost his job because he allowed a tree in his church.  Schools in Boston stayed open on Christmas Day through 1870, and sometimes expelled students who stayed home.

In 1851, Catskill farmer Mark Carr hauled two ox sleds of evergreens into New York City and sold them all, originating the commercial Christmas tree market in this country.  By 1900, one in five American families had a Christmas tree, and 20 years later, the custom was nearly universal.

The first time a Christmas tree was lit by electricity was in 1882 in New York. Edward Johnson, who did various work for Thomas Edison, lit a Christmas tree with a string of 80 small electric light bulbs which he had made himself. These strings of lights began to be produced commercially around 1890. One of the first electrically lit Christmas trees was erected in Westmount, Quebec in 1896. In 1900, some large stores put up large illuminated trees to attract customers.

Once begun, the custom spread in Canada wherever electricity came to towns and the countryside. Because of the risk of fire, trees lit with candles had not usually been put up until December 24. This technical innovation altered the custom since it was then possible to put the tree up earlier and leave it up longer.  Early electric tree decorations were not limited to lights.  Intermittent electromagnetic fields powered moving toys and ringing bells.  Now, the move is away from anything that produces electromagnetic fields or static electricity that interfere with electronic comunications.  [Do click the shot at right above to get a look at the happy faces on those kids.]

With 3,000 Christmas lights, a towering Eucalyptus regnans, 80 meters (262 ft) tall, became the tallest-ever Christmas tree in the world. This record was set in Tasmania in 1999.

Contrasting fads and fashions in tree decorations are reflected in these two shots.  The children at right above are posed by an early twentieth century tree loaded down with a more or less regular and symmetrical arrangement of glass balls.  The woman at left is posing before a spare and randomly trimmed post-depression tree of the 1930s or '40s.

Christmas tree farms were an offshoot of the Great Depression. Nurserymen couldn't sell their evergreens for landscaping, so they cut them for Christmas trees. Cultivated trees were preferred because they have a more symmetrical shape than wild ones.  That preference held until the 1950s when, in the era of aluminum and plastic, artificial trees gained popularity.

Some manufacturers of artificial trees tried to make them as close in appearance to real trees as possible.  Their advertisements stressed the economy of a permanent tree that could be stored away with the decorations from one year to the next.  They also made reference to the safety and convenience of a reusable tree that would not catch fire or drop needles on the carpet.

Designers of artificial trees in the twenty-first century are appealing to customers' sense of style and ecological consciousness.  The plywood trees designed by Buro North of Australia are purportedly 80% more Earth-friendly than a traditional tree.  To me, these trees look like they might find many approving customers in New York or Hollywood, but they are not quite traditional enough for the official holiday decor in Washington, DC.

Eighty-seven years ago, President Calvin Coolidge lit the first national Christmas tree.  Thirty-two years ago, the National Park Service searched out a healthy Colorado blue spruce and transplanted it from York, Pennsylvania to the Ellipse by the White House.   For 2008, General Electric donated new LED Christmas lights to all fifty states and the National Park Service.  The lighting on the National Christmas Tree (right, above) for 2008, was the most energy-efficient and Earth-friendly one ever.   On the tree's website, you can decorate your own virtual tree.

Each year, competition among members of the National Christmas Tree Association determines who will have the privilege of donating a tree for the Blue Room of the White House.  The 2008 Blue Room tree shown at left was a Fraser fir from Creston, NC.  For 2010, the Blue Room tree is a Douglas fir from Lehighton, PA.  The resource expenditure, hoopla, and publicity surrounding the National Christmas Trees are seen by some non-Christians as a clear violation of the principle of separation of church and state, and the observance is viewed by some fundamentalist Christians as a pagan travesty.

Nevertheless, the tradition continues.  Each year's White House decorations follow a theme.  The theme for 2010 is, "Simple Gifts."  Ornaments on a theme of "Red, White and Blue Christmas," for the Blue Room tree of 2008, were created by artists chosen for the honor by various members of Congress.  There are two ornaments from Alaska (one of which appears below), and a dozen or so from California.

Many of the artists departed markedly from the colors of the theme.  One of Hawaii's contributions was covered with orange feathers, and one from California was metallic gold.  I didn't take the time to examine all of them, but you may if you like.  Personally, I think there might be more practical uses for all the time and resources spent on this glitz and glitter, but in theory, what with my being an American citizen, these are my Christmas trees and I intend to enjoy them.  I truly did, in a simple-minded way, enjoy the interactive virtual tree trimming.

As far back as I can remember, I enjoyed trimming the tree.  My parents allowed me to hang ornaments and drape tinsel on the lower branches within my reach.  Some years during my youth and young adulthood, for various reasons, there was no tree.  I had re-established the practice after I moved to Alaska, and interrupted it when the house became the territory of a wild animal:  my son, Doug, with ADHD.  After he got old enough not to be dangerous around a tree, we would cut one and decorate it each year, but that was while we lived off the grid, and he had never had a lighted tree before we moved in here, and no tree at all our first few years in this house.

Doug and I made plans to have a tree in 2004.  It was to have been our first Christmas tree since Greyfox moved up here in 1991.  The Old Fart had always discouraged Christmas decorations, and we never fought it.  After old Scrooge McGreyfox moved out, being on the power grid at last, we were going to decorate.  In the summer of 2004, the vandals at Elvenhurst, our old home across the highway, dragged out and scattered some of our Christmas decorations, and I picked them up and brought them over here.   Before snow fell, Doug scouted out some nice young spruce trees and made note of their locations so he could go back and cut one later.

As the time for cutting the tree grew nearer, the snow grew deeper in the cul de sac where the best of the trees are located.  When Greyfox asked us to bring in our only string of white lights for him to decorate his porch, that threw a small kink in the plan.  When I realized that we didn't have a stand for the tree, and that we'd had no experience of how these cats might interact with one, and that Koji has never been around an indoor tree....  Well, Doug and I talked it over and decided the tree would be risky and more trouble than it's worth.

In 2005, our Christmas tree discussion was brief and conclusive.  There were eight cats in the house, half of them uninhibited kittens.  I contented myself with photos like the close-up above right and the shot above left, of my tree and ornament collection, taken in 1979, before Doug was born and before his father Charley and I moved off the power grid.  In 2006, I decided that a tree would have been more absurd than in '04 and '05.  The cat population was up around a dozen by then, and three of them were high-climbing rambunctious kittens.  In '07, I was fresh out of the hospital at Christmas and no tree was even discussed.

In 2008, it looked sorta like we had a tree, but it was really just a hanging ivy plant wound 'round with a string of white lights.  It remained decorated through Christmas of 2009, hung with a choice selection from my vast collection of antique glass ornaments, corn shuck dolls and toy forms, spiced up with some geekish high-tech new things, and lighted by tiny white mini-lights.  If I'd had my druthers, I'd have had some of the old-style "bubble candle" lights that have come back onto the market recently.  They are part of the fond childhood memories for both Greyfox and me.

When I finally got around to removing the decorations last spring, my ivy plant was much diminished.   If I decorate this year, I'll probably just string lights around a macrame hanger, with a wide round basket in the bottom to give it the conical shape.  I really don't have space for it in the window, however, because my philodendron has grown like the Monstera deliciosa it is, and takes up three times as much space in the front window as it did two years ago.  I'll probably just hang a wreath on the cabin door and let it go at that.

Stealing from one source is plagiarism; from many sources, it is research.  I researched far and wide over a period of several years for this material, and my countdown to Christmas is just getting started.

My plan is to turn Santa up and see what will shake out of the jolly old elf's capacious pockets.  With tongue lodged firmly in cheek, but in all seriousness nonetheless, here goes:

When I started this thing in 2004, I reversed the twelve days of Christmas.  Traditionally, they start at the Mass of Christ (December 25) and last until Epiphany (January 6).  Since childhood when, like most American children, I was taught that Christmas is all about Santa, elves, reindeer, conifers hung with sparkly things, White Christmas and Jingle Bells, I had been irritated by the anti-climactic quality of leaving up the decorations and playing Xmas music on the radio after Santa Claus had already been and gone.  It was absurd then, and it gets more ridiculous with the passage of time and the development of an ever more secularly commercial xmas.

Christmas, hereinafter occasionally abbreviated as xmas, was never truly 100% Christian, and has currently largely outgrown Christianity.  Its worldwide celebration at this time of year has had some odd side-effects.  A relatively minor Jewish holiday, Hanukkah, has gained unexpected significance in the eyes of goyim through some sort of "equal rights" or "equal time" phenomenon.  It is hardly coincidental that when Maulana Karenga created Kwanzaa during the Black Power days in 1966, he had it begin on the day after xmas.  Just as there are xians who observe xmas but never go to church, there are some neo-pagans whose only annual observances are at Yuletide, and are rather transparently set up as an anti-xmas.

Several years ago, when I was more easily offended than I am now, I was appalled at seeing somebody refer to Christmas as, "Baby Jesus's Birthday."  I wanted to set the record straight, having learned from history that it was in the summer of  7 or 8 BC that the Roman census occurred that, according to legend, compelled a pregnant woman named Miriam and her husband to travel to the hometown of his adopted family (that "adopted" bit comes not from conventional history, but I accept it nonetheless, because it makes sense in context and has the ring of truth).

Half a century ago, people generally waited until after Thanksgiving to put Christmas merchandise out in stores and string up holiday lights.  Now, they barely wait until after Halloween.  Out go the pumpkins and witches, in come the holly and mistletoe.  It's carrying this Saturnalian bullshit too far in the interest of sales and profits, I say.  On my first day of Christmas six years ago (timed to get all twelve of them out of the way by Christmas Day--including the big day itself, of course), I started with that popular old memory-and-forfeit game in song:

The Twelve Days of Christmas

On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the second day of Christmas, my true love sent to me
Two turtle doves
and a partridge in a pear tree.

On the third day of Christmas, my true love sent to me
Three French hens, two turtle doves
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me
Four colly birds, three French hens, two turtle doves
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me
Five golden rings.
Four colly birds, three French hens, two turtle doves
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four colly birds, three French hens, two turtle doves
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four colly birds, three French hens, two turtle doves
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four colly birds, three French hens, two turtle doves
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six
geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four colly birds, three French hens, two turtle doves
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Ten lords a-leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans
a-swimming, six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four colly birds, three French hens, two turtle doves
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Eleven pipers piping, ten lords a-leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids
a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four colly birds, three French hens, two turtle doves And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Twelve drummers drumming,
eleven pipers piping, ten lords a-leaping,
nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking,
seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four colly birds,
three French hens,
two turtle doves
And a partridge in a pear tree.

With a lot of practice, and with one's wits about one, it's not too hard to remember the gifts and the proper ordering of them, so there's not much challenge to the game.  That's where the "forfeit" part comes in.  If perchance one does flub a line, then traditionally one must take a drink, or give a kiss, or remove an article of clothing, etc. -- a forfeit.  That tends to get one flustered or schnockered, and then the flubs just snowball.  It's a fun game, played under certain circumstances, with special people.

There is an urban legend and internet hoax circulating about the song and game, which says the song was a way for Christians or Catholics (depending upon which version of the legend one hears) to secretly pass along their teachings in times and places where their religion was prohibited.  That myth is thoroughly and exhaustively exploded at snopes.com.

Did you notice that my version of the song above does not say, "four calling birds?"  I reverted to the original wording here.  "Colly" means "black as coal," and refers to blackbirds.

If the "five golden rings" in the song conjure in your mind an image similar to the one above, think again.  The first seven "gifts" are birds, and the last five are people engaged in various activities.  None of them is jewelry.  The "golden rings" in the song are golden ring-necked pheasants.

My posting the old memory-and-forfeits song "inspired" my husband, soulmate and unindicted co-conspirator, Greyfox, to create the following:

The Twelve Days of Christmas, redux
(reductio ad absurdum, actually)

I will spare you all twelve verses-
-the last one goes as follows:

On the last day of Christmas,
my true love gave to me,
Twelve Hummers rumbling,
Eleven snipers sniping,
Ten voyeurs peeping,
Nine faggots prancing,
Eight 'tards a'drooling,
Seven snowmen melting,
Six crips a'gimping,
Five yoyo strings!
Four stinky turds,
Three French whores,
Two sur-GI-cal gloves,
and The latest Partridge Family CD!

[Greyfox (AKA ArmsMerchant) takes full credit, responsibility, and blame for this composition, in case there is any doubt or confusion.]

---

A critic, for reasons at which I can only guess, left this comment in 2004: "'and save us all from Satan's power' - Good King Wenceslas," to which I felt it only fitting to reply in the following way, since the whole purpose of this series of entries has been to set the record straight:

two song lyrics for you:

Good King Wenceslaus

Good King Wenceslaus looked out on the feast of Stephen.
When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even.

Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight, gathering winter fuel.

Hither page and stand by me if thou knowst it telling
Yonder peasant, who is he, where and what his dwelling?

Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes' fountain.

Bring me flesh and bring me wine, bring me pinelogs hither
Thou and I will see him dine when we bear them thither

Page and monarch forth they went, forth they went together
Through the rude winds wild lament, and the bitter weather.

Sire the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger
Fails my heart, I know not how, I can go no longer.

Mark my footsteps my good page, tread thou in them boldly
Thou shalt find the winter's rage freeze thy blood less coldly.

In his master's steps he trod where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very sod which the saint had printed

Therefore Christian men be sure, wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing.

God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen

God rest ye merry, gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay,
Remember Christ our Saviour
Was born on Christmas Day;
To save us all from Satan's power
When we were gone astray.

O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
O tidings of comfort and joy.

In Bethlehem, in Jewry,
This blessed Babe was born,
And laid within a manger,
Upon this blessed morn;
To which His mother Mary
Did nothing take in scorn.

O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
O tidings of comfort and joy.

From God our Heavenly Father,
A blessed angel came;
And unto certain Shepherds
Brought tidings of the same:
How that in Bethlehem was born
The Son of God by Name.

O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
O tidings of comfort and joy.

"Fear not," then said the angel,
"Let nothing you afright,
This day is born a Saviour
Of a pure Virgin bright,
To free all those who trust in him
From Satan's power and might."

O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
O tidings of comfort and joy.

The shepherds at those tidings
Rejoiced much in mind,
And left their flocks a-feeding,
In tempest, storm and wind:
And went to Bethlehem straightway
The Son of God to find.

O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
O tidings of comfort and joy.

And when they came to Bethlehem
Where our dear Saviour lay,
They found him in a manger,
Where oxen feed on hay;
His mother Mary kneeling down,
Unto the Lord did pray:

O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
O tidings of comfort and joy.

Now to the Lord sing praises,
All you within this place,
And with true love and brotherhood
Each other now embrace;
This holy tide of Christmas
All other doth deface:

O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
O tidings of comfort and joy.

---

And if you like the Christmas memory game, here's one that's even more challenging.
Save it for the New Year's Eve party.

One hen.
One hen, two ducks.
One hen, two ducks, three squawking geese.
One hen, two ducks, three squawking geese, four Limerick oysters.
One hen, two ducks, three squawking geese, four Limerick oysters, five corpulent porpoises.
One hen, two ducks, three squawking geese, four Limerick oysters, five corpulent porpoises, six pairs of Don Alfonso’s tweezers.

One hen, two ducks, three squawking geese, four Limerick oysters, five corpulent porpoises, six pairs of Don Alfonso’s tweezers, seven thousand Macedonian warriors in full battle array.

One hen, two ducks, three squawking geese, four Limerick oysters, five corpulent porpoises, six pairs of Don Alfonso’s tweezers, seven thousand Macedonian warriors in full battle array, eight brass monkeys from the ancient, sacred crypts of Egypt.

One hen, two ducks, three squawking geese, four Limerick oysters, five corpulent porpoises, six pairs of Don Alfonso’s tweezers, seven thousand Macedonian warriors in full battle array, eight brass monkeys from the ancient, sacred crypts of Egypt, nine sympathetic, apathetic, diabetic old men on roller skates with a profound propensity toward procrastination and sloth.

One hen, two ducks, three squawking geese, four Limerick oysters, five corpulent porpoises, six pairs of Don Alfonso’s tweezers, seven thousand Macedonian warriors in full battle array, eight brass monkeys from the ancient, sacred crypts of Egypt, nine sympathetic, apathetic, diabetic old men on roller skates with a profound propensity toward procrastination and sloth, ten lyrical, spherical, diabolical denizens of the deep, who haul stones in and around the quarries of the Queasy of Key, all at the very same time.

One hen, two ducks, three squawking geese, four Limerick oysters, five corpulent porpoises, six pairs of Don Alfonso’s tweezers, seven thousand Macedonian warriors in full battle array, eight brass monkeys from the ancient, sacred crypts of Egypt, nine sympathetic, apathetic, diabetic old men on roller skates with a profound propensity toward procrastination and sloth, ten lyrical, spherical, diabolical denizens of the deep, who haul stones in and around the quarries of the Queasy of Key, all at the very same time, eleven neutramatic synsthesizing systems owned by the seriously cybernetic marketing division shipped via relativistic space flight through the draconian sector seven.

This was the entry (slightly altered) that started it all, on December 14, 2004.  Like it or not, there are more to come.  Below is a list of those that have appeared before now.  I may be inspired or persuaded to take on other aspects of the Xmas mythos this season or in those to follow.
*The ones I like best or had the most fun researching and writing are starred.
1.   svwX - turning the 12 days of Christmas upside-down and backwards*
2.   Why postpone the joy?
3.   Origins of the Candy Cane
4.   Two Patriotic (Xmas) Poems - Giving the Authors their Due
5.   White Christmas  by Robert W. Service (not my #1 favorite Xmas poem by him, but pretty good anyway, in its own sentimental way)
6.   All about Christmas trees*
7.   Holidays are Hazardous (political correctness and other evils)
8.   Born in a Manger (origin and history of the crèche or Nativity scene)*
9.   Holiday Treats for Gifts or for Eating - six recipes:  3 sugary & 3 gluten-free lo-cal
10.   Io Saturnalia! - ancient history*
11. It really is a WONDERFUL LIFE. - Featured Grownups essay on how I made my little world a better place.
12. Xmas in War and Something Else - war and peace with a seasonal twist, in poetry, pictures, cartoons, etc.*
13. Winter Solstice - Sacred Survival (archaeoastronomy and diverse traditions)
14. How did reindeer get involved, anyway?
15. Mistletoe, Holly, Ivy, Poinsettias and Yule Logs
16. Draggin' the Tree (cowboy Christmas poetry)
17. The Trapper's Christmas Eve and The Christmas Tree by Robert W. Service
18. The Ancestry and Evolution of Santa Claus*
19. The Elves and Gnomes of Christmas
20.  A small collection of seasonally appropriate, but otherwise inappropriate, images unworthy of attention by anyone except one with a seriously sick sense of humor.
21  My favorite Christmas Poem

Luke, Chapter 2, New International Version ©1968:

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night.  An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.  But the angel said to them,

“Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.  Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.  This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”

Source:  Biblos.com

"Do not be afraid," or in the language of King James, "Fear not," are words that can stand alone.  I can't imagine any better advice that a superhuman guardian might give to any of us mortals.  Even in the direst of circumstances, when caution and prudence are most urgently needed, fear and panic are always counterproductive.  In human relations and relations between nations, fear is the leading cause of conflict.  The angels might as well have said, "Transcend fear." 

Perhaps, if the legend has a basis in fact, and angelic heralds did accost a flock of shepherds on a special night long ago, what they actually said was, "Transcend fear."  I mean, like once and for all,  not just at that one fleeting moment in time.  This is what I'd advise.  It's great, useful, life-enhancing, all purpose advice.

But I digress. 

Unless this angelic birth announcement was a repeat of one they had done previously, or one in a series, perhaps a habit that angels had, of heralding the arrival of notable babies, this legend has been borrowed from the myth of Mithras.  History records that many of the known "facts" of the birth and life of Jeshua ben Joseph were first attributed to an earlier divinity.  The Urantia Book lists Mithras as one of the sources for our existing myth of the Christ:

I am astounded that the angels did not until now get an entry all their own in my infamous svwX series.  This essay comes from one of those hypnogogic inspirations I frequently receive on the edge of sleep.  When it hit me two nights ago, it jolted me out of the slide toward slumber and left me lying there plotting and planning for a while, before I could slip off to sleep.

I started out, years back, to turn the 12 days of Christmas upside down and backwards with 12 entries counting down to the day, rather than coming after.  I have, through the years, almost doubled the original 12 entries.  Others in the series include:

*The ones I like best or had the most fun researching and writing are starred.
1.   svwX - turning the 12 days of Christmas upside-down and backwards*
2.   Why postpone the joy?
3.   Origins of the Candy Cane
4.   Two Patriotic (Xmas) Poems - Giving the Authors their Due
5.   White Christmas  by Robert W. Service (not my #1 favorite Xmas poem by him, but pretty good anyway, in its own sentimental way)
6.   All about Christmas trees*
7.   Holidays are Hazardous (political correctness and other evils)
8.   Born in a Manger (origin and history of the crèche or Nativity scene)*
9.   Holiday Treats for Gifts or for Eating - six recipes:  3 sugary & 3 gluten-free lo-cal
10.   Io Saturnalia! - ancient history*
11. It really is a WONDERFUL LIFE. - Featured Grownups essay on how I made my little world a better place.
12. Xmas in War and Something Else - war and peace with a seasonal twist, in poetry, pictures, cartoons, etc.*
13. Winter Solstice - Sacred Survival (archaeoastronomy and diverse traditions)
14. How did reindeer get involved, anyway?
15. Mistletoe, Holly, Ivy, Poinsettias and Yule Logs
16. Draggin' the Tree (cowboy Christmas poetry)
17. The Trapper's Christmas Eve and The Christmas Tree by Robert W. Service
18. The Ancestry and Evolution of Santa Claus*
19. The Elves and Gnomes of Christmas
20.  A small collection of seasonally appropriate, but otherwise inappropriate, images unworthy of attention by anyone except one with a seriously sick sense of humor.
21  My favorite Christmas Poem

When I was seven years old, on December 1, 1951, my father died.  He was my hero, my world, but at the moment of his death I was angry at him over a spanking the previous evening, and I wished him dead.  I have posted previously here about his death and its aftermath.

My mother and I grieved over him so fiercely that it affected all parts of our lives, as well as the lives of many others with whom we came into contact.  She, in particular, made every December an occasion for mourning, crying, and wishing he were still with us.  I would have preferred to forget, and as soon as I got away from her, I did my best to block him and his death out of my mind,

It didn't work.  He would come to mind in a thousand ways at any time at all.  December was particularly hard.  Then, when I was thirty, I spoke openly for the first time about my guilt over his death.  The healing started then.  In the thirty-some years since then, there were some December firsts that slipped by without my remembering the anniversary, and there were others when it would jump out at me from a calendar, bringing with it echoes of the old feelings.

This year, in the latter days of November, I remembered that December was coming up, I remembered Daddy, and I smiled at the memories.  I got through the anniversary of his death without pain this year.

When I was fourteen years old, on December 4, 1958, I was married for the first time.  Despite separation, divorce and subsequent remarriages, I tended to hang onto both regrets for my naive and ill-considered choices then, and recriminations against my abusive and unfaithful spouse.  Apparently, I'm over that now, as well.  The anniversary came, I remembered, and there was no emotional charge to the memories. 

I'm into December, feeling well.  It's just a couple of weeks and a day or two until the days start getting longer.  That thought does carry an emotional charge, of exhilaration and delight.

I don't know if this is a bee in my bonnet or a burr under my saddle.  I only know that I've been carrying it around for too long.  Despite my efforts to just let it go, and some temporary success at that, it recurs to me at odd moments.  If there's a chance that venting can help me get rid of it for good, it's worth a try.

Years ago, soon after I moved onto the power grid and got internet access, I was participating in several bulletin board type forums.  Each one was focused on some interest of mine or on a personal matter on which I could use some support.  One of that latter type was devoted to fibromyalgia support, and the other - the one where my burr/bee originated - was all about eating disorders.

I had multiple food allergies and addictions and had only recently learned from an authoritative source, the fact that food allergies often manifest as addictions to the offending foods.  I posted a note to that effect in an appropriate forum.  The following day, my post had been removed and I had a message from a moderator warning me that two more such infractions would result in my being permanently banned.

Naively, innocently, I messaged the mod, questioning just what the precise nature of my infraction had been.  I was directed to a post stating that eating disorders are psychological in nature, the result of emotional needs and/or issues with power and control.  My reaction to that was this thought:  "Well, yes, that's a widespread belief, and possibly partially accurate, but its universality is being discredited and discarded by the leading edge of expert opinion."

I did wonder why this website for eating disorders was not conversant with that cutting edge, state-of-the-art scientific opinion.  I messaged the mod a question to that effect.  The reply I received evaded the question and simply told me that if I continued to write posts that could "trigger" other members, I would be banned. 

The philosophy of this psychological eating disorder (ED) forum was that, if one works through the traumatic experiences and psychological issues underlying the anorexia, bulimia or compulsive overeating, then ED will be dead and one will be free to eat "normally."  I kept on participating in the forums, lending support to the friends I'd formed there, and trying to derive some help in my own abstinence.  I tried to stick to their rules, even though they made no sense to me.  Then, in a general open forum, I encountered a thread, "What will you eat when ED is dead?"

I couldn't help noticing that literally every food listed, without exception, by the various participants, contained one or more of the known addictive peptides.  I added a little note to the thread, pointing out that fact, and included the link to a page of info on addictive foods.  Of course, that post was removed and I was warned that I would be banned the next time I posted anything that could trigger the members' EDs.

That was enough for me.  I figured that the admin and/or mods had their egos deeply invested in their psychological philosophy, and were either sincerely convinced that any other perspective or approach would be ineffective or harmful to their clients, or were unwilling to risk a realization that their professional standings and personal reputations might be based on erroneous, incomplete, or obsolete information.  I quit participating in that forum before I was banned, and soon I had quit doing that forum-thread thing and started blogging, where I could have more freedom of expression.

I thought that it didn't matter to me which motivation applied to those ED "experts:"  selfish, ego-based fears, or well-intentioned delusion.  I must have cared more about that question than I realized at the time.  If not, then I wouldn't keep wondering about it at odd moments when something triggers a memory.  As I have been writing this, I might have found my own solution.  I think it likely that it was not either/or, but both/and, as well as a few other probable motivations.

With that insight, I hope this issue will go away for me.  I suspect that the issue, the problem, the philosophical difficulty, and the ED, will not go away for the ones caught in that fishy mindset.

Narcissism alert:  This is an exercise in self-reflection.  I need it, and if I was doing it alone, internally, it would be too easy to let myself be distracted.  Writing it out forces me to stay focused on working it out.  Well... not actually to stay focused, but certainly to keep returning to focus as my mind strays away and then notices this unfinished work staring at me.

I don't have a job in the common sense of paid employment, on a schedule, for an employer.  The last time I had a job like that was 1976.  By then, at age 32, it had become very hard to find anyone willing to hire me.  I'd had a felony incarceration for possession of marijuana, and my employment history was spotty.  I had moved around a lot, and many of the jobs I'd had were terminated for absences due to illness.  Getting sick again and losing that job put me firmly in the category of hardcore unemployable.

Fortunately for me, that same year I found a way to start getting paid for doing Tarot card readings and intuitive counseling, work I had been doing informally and without pay for seven years by then.  That self-employment provided meager but adequate income for close to a quarter century before the relapsing and remitting illnesses again caught up with me, rendering me unable to do the summertime round of setting up booths at arts fairs and music festivals, and discouraging a loyal bunch of long-term mail-order clients who often had to wait months for responses from me.

But I digress... See how readily my mind strays from my purpose.  DOING MY JOB!  I need to define what that phrase means to me, examine where I stand in relation to the concept, and evaluate how well I've been doing my job.

The first purpose I set for myself in this life, when I was about four years old (give or take a year or two - I recall the moment and where I was, but not exactly when it was), was to "learn everything."  I later modified that to learning everything I can, but the original thought was, "everything," absolutely.  Subsequently, I was taught that in the limited time I had in the one life I had, I would not be able to learn absolutely everything, so I modified the ambition.  Now that I have come to recall having lived before, to assume that I can live again, and to suspect that the conscious, learning, part of me is both infinite and eternal, I suppose it would be okay to revert to the original intention.  I intend to know it all.  That's a big job, right there.

My first assignment, an imperative parental injunction, was to, "pull my own weight."  As early as I was able to get around on my own two feet, I was required to do so to whatever extent I was able.  If there was work to be done, I was expected to learn how to do my share, and to do a good job of it.  Being a freeloader or parasite was the lowest of the low.  This job has, over the years, been very challenging.  The parental programming set me up to refuse help, even when I needed it.   My self-esteem was dependent on my being independent.  Physical weaknesses and disabilities, as well as economic hardships, necessitated accepting help, and it was very difficult to do that.  Some fancy mental footwork has allowed me to accept, and even to ask for help.  I can manage now to do that and still keep my self-esteem, by giving back as much as I can.  My parents' hard-headed individualism has turned me into an open-hearted individual, openly and gladly giving whatever I've got to anyone who seems to need it.

Somewhere, probably from my paternal ancestry, I acquired a talent for storytelling, and some facility with words.  Those who have heard my stories and read my letters, psychic readings, magazine articles, and blogs, frequently asked for more.  A robed and hooded crone came to me in a dream and told me to write down my story.  It's a job I do fitfully, as the words either flow or they don't.  A decade or two ago, I began combining my enthusiasm for learning with my facility for writing, and started thinking about publishing factual articles and research papers.  A few of them have showed up here on Xanga from time to time.  As jobs go, it's neither the best nor the worst, in my opinion.

Nature or cosmic mechanics or something has set me up to be a nurturer.  Cooking and serving food to family, intimate friends, and crowds of strangers, is fun.  The work itself is rewarding, and the applause is gratifying.  If right livelihood is doing what you love, then my dream job is in a kitchen.  The aforementioned physical and financial limitations tend to curtail my ability to indulge that particular creative urge to any great extent.  Around here, I don't always manage to prepare even one real meal each day.  Some days, I barely manage to feed myself from the fruit basket and jars of nuts.  I'm a frustrated culinary artist.  That's where that's at.

Throughout my 66 years, I've become aware of a pervasive human need to justify one's existence, to find meaning in life, to assign purpose to life.  After much consideration of many different individual  takes on the answer to the, "Why are we here?" question, I've adopted as my own the one that suits me best.  My purpose in life is to transcend fear and practice unconditional love.  That's the job I took upon myself after mature reflection, in contrast to my youthful enthusiasm for learning, my parents' injunction to carry my own weight, the biologically mediated gender role of nurturer, and the socially motivated flip-side of the learner thing in the writer and storyteller role.  I think I'm doing that job in somewhat the same way and to a similar degree that I'm doing all the others:  spottily, sometimes, after a fashion, in my own way and my own time.

So, this job of assessing the job I've been doing of being who I am has just about run its course for me.  I've got other things to do.  If I left anything out, or if something changes, I'll need to revisit it sometime, I guess.  That's it for now.