Today is the winter solstice - the shortest, coldest day of the year. This is the day that has forever been used for ‘bringing in the light‘ ceremonies. These ceremonies serve to spiritually ask the light to return, since if it were to keep on getting smaller and colder, it wouldn’t be long before we were all human popsicles.

The day is short, not just because the Earth is far from the Sun but also because we are tilted away from the Sun. This is important because whenever a planet is over the North pole - it is cold. The opposite is true when it is over the South pole - then it is hot.

The story of Santa Clause is the story of the darkest coldest most Saturn day of the year being warmed up and lighted up by the Jolly Generous Fat Man (Jupiter). It is the metaphor for the returning of the light. We humans need this story, we need to believe that the light and the warmth will return. We need to believe that the light will crowd out the darkness, and it always does.

So light a candle and light the one that lives in your own soul. This is the day of the year that is ultimately about the Goodness of heart, spirit and generosity overcoming dark, bitter mean corners, sometimes called the Grinch. The best remedy for the Grinch is hearty laughter.

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You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch.
You really are a heel.
You’re as cuddly as a cactus,
You’re as charming as an eel.
Mr. Grinch.

You’re a bad banana
With a greasy black peel.

You’re a monster, Mr. Grinch.
Your heart’s an empty hole.
Your brain is full of spiders,
You’ve got garlic in your soul.
Mr. Grinch.

I wouldn’t touch you, with a
thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole.

You’re a vile one, Mr. Grinch.
You have termites in your smile.
You have all the tender sweetness
Of a seasick crocodile.
Mr. Grinch.

Given the choice between the two of you
I’d take the seasick crocodile.

You’re a foul one, Mr. Grinch.
You’re a nasty, wasty skunk.
Your heart is full of unwashed socks
Your soul is full of gunk.
Mr. Grinch.

The three words that best describe you,
are, and I quote: “Stink. Stank. Stunk.”

You’re a rotter, Mr. Grinch.
You’re the king of sinful sots.
Your heart’s a dead tomato splot
With moldy purple spots,
Mr. Grinch.

Your soul is an apalling dump heap
overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment
of deplorable rubbish imaginable,
Mangled up in tangled up knots.

You nauseate me, Mr. Grinch.
With a nauseaus super-naus.
You’re a crooked jerky jockey
And you drive a crooked horse.
Mr. Grinch.

You’re a three decker saurkraut and toadstool sandwich
With arsenic sauce.