Before you heard of the baby and the manger, there was this man who wanted to do something.
No, he didn't want to save the world because he knew that was not possible.
He did not come to change the world either.
Nor was he interested in founding a religion or to cultivate a cult personality because, though either would be easy, it just would not be profitable, either to the world or to himself.
As it is, we already have a surfeit of religions.
And if truth be told and objectivity and honesty be the honour, instead of blind devotion and belief, we would have to admit that religions have divided the world and brought about more pain and deaths than love and inclusiveness.
No, he just wanted to be like you and I.
And like you and I, he lived a life as mundane as the bee, flitting here and there looking for nectar to make honey.
And then he thought, why could he not be the honey, instead of the bee.
So, he searched and he probed.
He cried and he tried.
Who was I? he asked.
I didn't know, he admitted to himself.
I was just a face, a name and a label.
I was a friend, I was an enemy.
I was good, and I was bad.
I loved and I hated.
I dreamed and I slaved.
I lived and I would die?
But who was I?
He didn't know.
He was searching and he was looking.
Was honey better than the bee?
The bee might be mundane. But was honey really better than the bee?
The bee was just a metaphor.
And the honey?
No better than the bee!
Both were just metaphors of each other.
One had the quality of rest. The other of motion.
Both were polar descriptions of the same phenomenon of matter.
Did it matter then, whether he was the bee or the honey?
Or something else? And what was that?
Of course it did matter to him, whether he was the honey or the bee or something else.
His story lives in you and I.
But for himself, he found that truth was no more stranger than fiction.
They were him.
A Cheery Merry Christmas To All!
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