A Christmas Letter to My Fellow Storytellers

Dear Wordplayers,

I love this moment in time, as the warmth and blessing of Christmas juxtaposes the deepest darkness of the year. For me, it feels like sitting on a snow-covered hill as night falls.

Where I come from, winter nights are a howl of wind and fury, sometimes punctuated by the softness of a snow that feels like it will go on and on into infinity.

Although we may not always think of it, this turning of the season is a time of death. It is a moment when all things die, when there is nothing around us but darkness. There is a catch in my heart as I feel into its potency. If I am honest, there is perhaps at first a flinch of primordial terror, but as I wait in the cold—as I close my eyes and raise my face and breathe–there is the wash of a great and peaceful familiarity. In that moment, there is surrender.

And then, I open my eyes. The darkness of winter fills with lights. The beauty, the sparkle, the deep warmth and love of Christmas. It is, and has always been, my favorite holiday.

I love the traditions. I love that all my family returns to me. I love the presents and the food, the candlelit dinners and the irreplaceable joy of children reveling in it all.

I love that it is a moment of deep reflection. A moment when everything I am most grateful for in my life circles around me. It is a time when the deep magic that is story feels most real to me.

For me, this Christmas closes out an epic year of travel and fun and deeply satisfying work—and also a terrifying close call in a car accident that could have been so much worse. It makes me feel the poignant contrasts of this season that much more deeply, and to look forward to all my big plans for the New Year with that much more gratitude.

Whoever you are and wherever you are, I feel confident that when you look behind you, you too are seeing a year full of adventures, perhaps some close calls, stress and tension, but also beauty and grace. Although the magic of story lives inside every single human being, I do rather think that those of us who seek the calling of telling those stories feel perhaps a bit more deeply and brightly the power and magic of every moment.

We’re here, in this moment of time—at what can sometimes feel like the turning of an epoch—for a reason. Your path has crossed with mine for a reason.

And so on this snowy night under the stars with the lights of friendly fires flickering on the horizon, I nod my recognition and respect to you as we pass. Thanks for being with me, fellow traveler. I look forward to meeting you again, down the road, in the New Year.

Merry Christmas.

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