Once upon a time there was a girl who didn't like Christmas, she hated cheesy nativity scenes...

Once upon a time there was a girl who did not like Christmas. I hated the cheesy nativity scenes and the unoriginal Santa Clauses, the terrifyingly kitsch decorations, I hated the gooey nougat and those shortbread that suffocate you if you get distracted, the crowds and the noise, the strident and tiresome music of every year, the chaos in the department stores, the queues at El Corte Inglés, the supposed good humor and the real stress, the useless expenses, the obligatory gifts, the false generosity and the consumerist fever that devoured everyone at that time, the dolled-up relatives whose conversation it seems to become more and more repetitive as time goes by, and the terrible binge eating that, in addition to boring her, made her fat. He also hated the cold, the winter, the oppressive clothes, the heating that dries out the skin, the colds, the flu, sore throats, bronchitis and other diverse epidemics that attack, one by one, everyone who doesn't make up his mind at that time. to flee. But she, most of all, she hated feeling compelled to give gifts.

So when she got older – old enough to buy a plane ticket – she the girl decided to run away from her. She didn't say anything to anyone, because we already know that it's in very bad taste not to love Christmas, that the family feels betrayed and her friends are dying of envy. So he convinced his two huge Siberian cats (which were not stuffed animals, but felines that were alive and purring, very talkative) and together they decided to set sail for the Garden of Eden, Paradise Lost, where there would have been no original sin or necessary redemption, where The birth of Jesus could not be celebrated because the world would be as it should be and no God would have deemed it useful to incarnate, where Adam and Eve, after long conversations with the serpent, would have become very friendly with it and would have preferred to play hide-and-seek with each other. the branches of the forbidden tree, after having thrown the famous apple into the sea so that the fish would become wiser and could finally discern between good and evil. A virgin Christmas paradise.

But where to find that paradise? The Siberian steppes did not seem like a good option, it was immeasurably colder than in Spain, the cats knew what they were talking about and although they wanted to go home, they discouraged it. Neither did the antipodes, because in Australia or New Zealand, although the weather was good at that time, they did celebrate Christmas, with turkey and everything in the heat of summer... So the three of them, the girl and the two cats, went to Ask for advice at the Corte Inglés travel agency.

It was the hardest part of the adventure: the guard at the gate said that "the animals" could not enter. And the two cats remained sitting in the cold, very wounded in their dignity, staring at the guard in case they managed to hypnotize him or at least give him a good Siberian evil eye, while the girl entered the department store alone...

Since she was very small and tremendously immature, the lady from the agency began by asking her if she could pay for the trip, if she had a passport, if she was of legal age and if her parents knew about it... (That's what happens in the West: that everything they are rules, norms, conventions, limitations…) But at that moment Providence arrived: the cats appeared. They hadn't managed to completely hypnotize the security guard, but they took advantage of a moment of distraction (the guard was explaining to a homeless woman that she couldn't go home as she wanted without first paying for the two Louis Vuitton bags she hid in her coat) , and ran to rescue the girl.

— And these animals? Asked the lady from the agency, putting on a disgusted face.—You're traveling with me, said the girl.—Do you have a passport?—Of course!

And it was that simple: everything was fixed... The lady from the agency dedicated herself to asking which airlines allow pets and stopped asking if the parents agreed and if she was of legal age or not.

She didn't know where there is NO Christmas. But he mentioned a tropical island, lost in the Indian Ocean, near Indonesia, which was neither Christian nor Jewish nor Muslim because it was at the same time Animist, Confucian, Buddhist, Tantric and Hindu, and that hardly anyone knew because it had so many names that it confused politicians and even maps. There was a flight that same night.

And there they were!

* * * * * * * *

Arriving at the airport on the lost island, a warm, humid breeze greeted them. Passport control went very well. The girl showed the Siberian documents of the cats, which were impeccable although written in Cyrillic, and the customs boy - very young, with beautiful white teeth - smiled, pretended to read everything and as if he understood what was there. put, put an official stamp on them and welcomed them to his country.

They left the building and saw what seemed to them to be paradise, luxuriant vegetation, palm and coconut trees and so many trees laden with fruits and flowers, so many shades of green and blue and vivid colors, and in the distance the black mountains and the smoking sacred volcano between mauve clouds. They noted the velvety heat of the humidity, the sun filtered through the mists of the air, the song of thousands of living beings of unknown species in other latitudes, the smell of herbs and flowers after it rained, and, far away, the salty air of the sea. Men and women, all smiling. Everyone seemed so happy! Great birds that flew majestically towards them. A stray dog ​​that curiously sniffed at the cats and respectfully licked the girl's feet. An electric blue butterfly that fell in love with the softness of her hair, landed on her shoulder and decided to accompany her to the end of the world. Everything seemed to welcome them. They even saw several westerners, big, fat little ones with milky skin slightly reddened by the sun, who walked without the natural grace of the natives, but who seemed happy and smiled at them. The girl thought that maybe they too were running away from Christmas.

They got into a very nice blue car. The driver's name was Kadek. He had cheerful eyes and a beautiful white smile. She wasn't surprised to see traveling and chattering cats because, in her world, many cats weren't just cats, but human spirits reincarnated in an animal body, and you had to have a lot of respect for them.

— Where do you want to go? She asked her. “We don't care. We don't even know what this island is called...

Kadek explained to them that the island had no name because it had all the names, and each person could thus choose the one they liked the most, since the island had the ability to show itself to that person according to the chosen name. “Like God,” added Kadek, “who visits each one in the way he chooses, he appears to some as Jesus, to others as the Divine Mother, or Shiva, or Ganesh, or the perfect Void. God can manifest as pure light or as cosmic sound, he can have eight arms and legs or have no form, be kind or cruel, omnipotent or a petty minor god, for infinite are the manifestations of the Absolute. For Kadek, God had divided himself into countless conscious energies, and hid himself in everything living or dead - in the trees and waters, mountains and clouds, and the souls of the ancestors. God was the sun, God was the earth, God was the seas and the moon that governs them, God brought rain, caused earthquakes and floods, granted health or illness, war or peace. For Kadek, they were on the Island of Spirits and Sacrifice.

— Do you believe in spirits? The girl asked skeptically. "Sure," Kadek said. They are everywhere… On this island they are very powerful, it is necessary to make offerings to appease them.— Are they evil?— There is everything. That's why we make sacrifices….— So, take us to visit your island, the one of the spirits…

And so did Kadek. Riding in their pretty blue car, they saw rice fields, tropical forests, splendid beaches, dry lava valleys that looked like lunar landscapes, villages between cliffs, ancient cemeteries with stone tombs buried among flowers, underground lakes, caves inhabited by invisible beings, grottos where the wise men retired to meditate and where their souls still roam, temples… Many temples. For the blue god, for the elephant-headed one, for the lion-headed one with the body of an eagle, for the goddess of prosperity, for the mother who takes life, for the monkeys, for the rats, for the cats... And people prayed in all of them with the same devotion, dressed in the garments and colors corresponding to the day of the week and the configuration of the stars, prostrated themselves to the ground, sang or danced, among altars meticulously made according to strict rituals. And he always made the offerings: wicker baskets arranged like a microcosm that reflects the universe, according to the eight cardinal points and the five elements. They offered flowers and fruits, grains of rice, essential oils, the first of each harvest, the most beautiful, the most beloved. Sometimes animals. Sometimes even human.

They made offerings to the fairies, to the wandering ghosts, to the dead of the family, to the spirit of fire, river, earth, water. For health or love, to get a job, to ask for forgiveness, to purify yourself. Offerings to the spirit of the mosquito to avoid being bitten and contracting malaria. And to the spirit of the jellyfish before entering the ocean. To the spirit of the earth in times of earthquakes, and to the spirit of the rain if the monsoon was delayed. They offered constantly. To the good spirits so that they would grant them their power or their grace. And the bad guys to placate them. Constantly. Before each meal, they made an offering, setting aside a portion for the spirits. Before going to sleep, they pronounced the ritual words to scare away the wicked. Upon awakening, they gave thanks to the spirits who had protected their rest and those who had transmitted wisdom to them in dreams. And they constantly gave each other gifts.

Because giving gifts was not a social obligation. Gratitude was an innate and carefully cultivated feeling, the natural response to a spontaneously generous nature.

Everybody knows their God- Bella Shmurda https://t.co/5DIhKxxSdc

— Naija Sat Apr 24 14:44:58 +0000 2021

The world was magical. And the magical order works by analogies – what is inside is what is outside, the microcosm reflects the macrocosm, inner peace produces prosperity and anger earthquakes – that is why the natives always smile, they always remain serene, they are always generous, they always seem happy…. And honestly, they are.

* * * * * * * * *

The night has come. The sun sank over the black volcano, amid clouds of blood and fire. The girl didn't know where to spend the night... So Kadek suggested that she go to a relative's house (the great-uncle of her sister-in-law's cousin) and the girl, who had very little money, was delighted to accept.

It was one of the typical houses of the Island of the Spirits, made of wood, glass and rice paper, with finely carved ceilings, silk curtains to filter the light, terraces and gardens where chickens and peacocks walked, a small altar in each room and two huge demons carved in volcanic stone at the entrance to scare away the spirits.

When they arrived, the family was having dinner: the parents and their three sons, all of them with sparkling eyes and a huge smile. The girl realized that the children were about her age, and she was very happy.

Everyone got up when they entered. The father told his children that a guest was always a messenger from God, and they stopped eating and ran to their rooms and the garden. They came back laden with gifts. They were not rich, but the gifts were really very nice: a peacock feather, a bouquet of huge red flowers that smelled of jasmine, a round stone from the sacred volcano, a glass vial with a magical liquid that apparently allowed speech. in dreams with the dead... The girl sincerely regretted not being able to offer something herself.

— We don't do that, she told them. In general we do not give anything away to anyone. Unless it's for a birthday. Or at Christmas: at Christmas it is mandatory to give gifts... An invention of the consumer society to make us spend money and stress us out even more.

They ate very rare and very tasty things, with gently scented steamed rice and spiced tea. The cats were served chowder, and the electric blue butterfly chose to perch for dinner on one of the large red flowers in the bouquet. By the time they finished, it was night. The father lit the fireplace and everyone told stories of fear of the love of the fire. Before going to sleep, the mother sprinkled on the head of each of the children a pink powder of rock salt and a little water blessed by their guru, to drive away the beings of the night, and wished everyone happy dreams. .

But the girl did not sleep well. The room was cosy, the bed very large and comfortable. Her parents had given her a beautiful silk nightgown. But, when she turned off the light and she got ready to lay down between the soft sheets, she felt something cold, like an icy mist around her and her hair stood on end. Turned on the light. She saw that the cats had bristled and were trying to open the door to escape... Suddenly, she saw it. She saw "something", a dark shape like the blackest smoke, surrounded by an icy mist, "something" coming towards her. She wanted to scream. And she couldn't. She wanted to run. But she was paralyzed. As in the most terrible nightmare, she could not do anything…. She only had to pray—to the god with eight arms or the one with the elephant's head, the one with skulls and the serpent's tongue, the goddess with sagging breasts or the patron saint of the homeless… Pray…. The cold was getting more and more intense. The being approached, and the girl felt how breathless she was. She was screaming mentally, but she couldn't open her lips, she couldn't move a muscle. She begged God for a miracle.

And God, apparently, heard her: At that moment there was a knock at the door of her room. She couldn't answer. But the door opened. She was her mother, she brought her a tray with water, milk, honey, fruits and sweets from the island in case she got hungry at night…. She saw what was happening. She immediately recited in a deep and sonorous voice some incomprehensible mantras. The windows opened of their own accord and five bats entered, pounced on the shapeless form of black smoke – which shrank, shrank, then disappeared, leaving behind only a gray mist and an intense sensation of cold.

— Oh, girl, said the mother. That was a trick of the most dangerous. They possess people, expel their soul and take over the body. They paralyze their victims. If he had come a little closer, you would have gasped for air and your soul would have gone. Only a very powerful shaman or exorcist magician could have saved you then.

The girl was speechless. She felt immense gratitude, but terror still sealed her lips.

— But, what I don't understand, said the mother, is why she chose you. Did you forget to make an offering?

And then the girl understood. She understood the reason for the gifts, the reason for the offerings. No, it was not a social obligation, as in the West. It was a necessity, the only way to survive.

Here, on the Island of the Spirits, there is no Christmas. No, here every day is Christmas. Every day they sacrifice some living being to appease the volcano, to prevent tsunamis, to fertilize the earth, to please the wind. The girl understood that this was the secret: that's why everyone seemed happy . The world on Spirit Island was neither better nor easier. It was even more hostile. But all offered what was dearest, and cultivated joy and inner peace. And they were much, much happier.

She then decided to return home – where, after all, Christmas presents were less compulsory than on the Isle of Spirits.

Kadek took her back to the airport, in his pretty blue car, with the two Siberian cats and the big electric blue butterfly pinned to her hair, with a peacock feather, a bouquet of huge red flowers that smelled of jasmine, a stone from the sacred volcano, a small glass bottle with a magical liquid that apparently made it possible to speak in dreams with the dead, a silk nightgown, and other things that she had collected along the way: sea sand, a necklace of shells from the beach, black lava stones, seeds from the tree of eternal youth, essential oils from intoxicating flowers that do not live in Europe, and a lucky spirit to remind you each day that gratitude is the secret to happiness, and that it is always time to celebrate a real Christmas.

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