I am pleased to offer the following excerpt from my book ‘Enlightenment to Go: Shantideva and the Power of Compassion to Transform your Life’. As a young child I remember the great excitement I felt about Santa Claus. Every year, as Christmas approached, his name would be invoked as a way of making me behave myself. While my parents, being good Presbyterians, didn’t allow the frippery of Santa to hijack the sacred annual landmark of Christmas, Santa was allowed a walk-on role. In our home, as in countless millions of others around the world, in the build-up to Christmas, heartfelt letters were written to Santa. What he may or may not bring us was an ongoing topic of conversation—or, in retrospect, expectations management. On Christmas Eve, stockings were draped from the mantelpiece, and a glass of milk and biscuits were left out for our nocturnal visitor, who was in the habit of leaving a lot of crumbs on his plate as though to evidence the gusto with which he’d wolfed down his midnight snack.
The Santa Claus-like "me"
The Santa Claus-like "me"
The Santa Claus-like "me"
I am pleased to offer the following excerpt from my book ‘Enlightenment to Go: Shantideva and the Power of Compassion to Transform your Life’. As a young child I remember the great excitement I felt about Santa Claus. Every year, as Christmas approached, his name would be invoked as a way of making me behave myself. While my parents, being good Presbyterians, didn’t allow the frippery of Santa to hijack the sacred annual landmark of Christmas, Santa was allowed a walk-on role. In our home, as in countless millions of others around the world, in the build-up to Christmas, heartfelt letters were written to Santa. What he may or may not bring us was an ongoing topic of conversation—or, in retrospect, expectations management. On Christmas Eve, stockings were draped from the mantelpiece, and a glass of milk and biscuits were left out for our nocturnal visitor, who was in the habit of leaving a lot of crumbs on his plate as though to evidence the gusto with which he’d wolfed down his midnight snack.