The Star XVII

Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration.
- Charles Dickens

Home for Christmas

Alone.  That's how I'm spending my first Christmas in my new home.  It's not deliberate, it just worked out that way.  I don't know anyone in my new town yet, and the few relatives I have are doing their own thing so far away I can't get there from here.  So in lieu of family and friends, I have only myself as company.  It seems strange, and perhaps a bit lonely.  But I'm okay with that.
I've made a huge change at a late stage in my life.  For many years now I've been longing for a home where I can live independently and by myself, with as little compromise as possible.  And I've found it.  Or perhaps it's more accurate to say it found me.  (see previous post)

When I tell people I meet that I'm brand new in town, they're all so warm and welcoming it reaffirms my belief that I have indeed come home.  But it's not to "retire."  Folks keep asking me if that's why I moved out of a big city to a small town.  The answer is a big, fat no.  Retire from what?  My long non-career as an actor?  That's not retirement.  Or do I plan to stop writing?  Hardly.  Sure, I quit working at the bookstore where I was employed for many years.  But it wasn't my calling or chosen profession.  It was never more than a job between gigs so that I could pay the rent.  And every once in while I did get a gig.
I'd like to think I'm blooming.  I've planted many seeds over the years, and now that I'm living in fertile, new circumstances, I have the freedom to grow into the fullest version of myself.  If I've already bloomed, I don't know when it was.  But I know what I'm doing now.  The present is my time.  And my new home is the place. 
In my book The World of Fairies, I was the model for the Latvian spirit of the hearth called Ugunsmate.  (pronounced ugoons mawt)  While I was writing the book I knew I wanted to pose as one of the fairies, and for a long while I couldn't find one that was suitable.  At the time I was firmly established in middle age, which meant the fairy I modelled for had to be a mature, maternal figure, and not a youthful nymph.  My searching eventually led me to my own Latvian heritage.  It turns out most Latvian female spirits tend to be mature women rather than adolescent girls.  That was a happy bit of synchronicity and another it's a sign moment.
As spirit of the hearth, Ugunsmate symbolises Home.  The hearth was traditionally the centre of family life in rural homes, providing light, heat and a place to cook food.  At the end of a day it was a place for the family to gather and tell stories.  Little wonder the hearth became the focal point of the home.  (N.B. focus is the Latin word for "hearth.")
Home has long been one of the most important themes in my life.  I've written about it a number of times on this little web of mine.  It's been two decades since I first learned about Ugunsmate and the attributes of comfort and security that are found in her company - the things I seek in a home. 
Christmas is a time to be with family and friends.  It's also a time to enjoy the comforts of home.  And though I'm not spending Christmas with my family, I am spending it at home.  I'm safe and sound in my own, true home at last.  It's the best Christmas present I've ever received.
Ugunsmate is certainly one of my most significant tutelary spirits, especially because she represents my Pagan heritage.  The Latvian word for Christmas is Ziemassvētkus, which literally translates as Winter Holidays, revealing the pre-Christian roots of the solstice festivities.  I guess Latvians never bothered to change the greeting after Christianity pre-empted their pagan revelries.  And I love it.  It's the kind of greeting I can share with anyone, no matter what their religious background, because winter happens to everyone.  It's inclusive and non-denominational.
So my dear readers, allow me to wish you a happy* winterfest in the language of my forebears - Priecīgus* Ziemassvētkus. 
Welcome the return of the light.  May it warm your heart and your home.
- g.p.