The quiet gentle snowfall of the holiday season seems to lie twisted and broken in the technological chaos that has infiltrated our lives and our homes. We are now instantly and incessantly connected and the voice of silence can no longer be heard.
Laying in beautiful silence beneath a sparkling tree immersed in the magic of the spirit's imagination is no longer a child's experience. Instead it's the incessant and relentless whistle crossing the airwaves creating a blanket of cyber noise upon which no head can rest.
The voice of the spirit is deafened by the steady stream of transient stimulus that mollifies the masses and deadens the heart of yesterday's child.
What will become of tomorrow's child? What will become of her spirit in years hence? Will the wave of the future have swept her so far from her core of peace that she will no longer know it exists?
Our hearts and souls are what make us human. If we no longer have the silence and space within which to know them, what then?
Silent night, holy night. I search for the light of hope this holiday season. Some recognition that all is not lost. I see none...just yet. But I will continue to search for it until my dying breath.