Luke Dodson

Dec 30, 2024

I never particularly liked New Year’s Eve as a child. It seemed like a pointless anti-climax after Christmas; nobody gets any presents, nothing happens, what exactly is there to celebrate? The grown-ups would get slightly bibulous, Jools Holland might appear at 11:59, and then it was time to go to bed. As I got older and I became interested in the seasonal origins of these festivals, I realised that New Year’s Eve feels artificial because, to some degree, it is artificial – the countdown to 12AM is an utterly arbitrary point dictated by clock-time. The same system that stole the gift of your time then had the temerity to ask you to celebrate the bars of the prison that holds you – those bars being the hands upon the clock-face. You poor bastards have no idea what they took from you.

Perhaps New Year’s Eve would be a more wholesome celebration if everyone cheered at sundown, marking the end of the old year, or at sunrise on New Year’s Day. One thing is for sure – I’ve never trusted the fact that, at least in Anglo countries, it does not involve the consumption of copious amounts of food.

With that seasonality in mind, and I hope that antipodean readers can bear with me as they go through their midsummer season, I had a thought-provoking comment on my last post, which led me to a realisation: even though two of the Christmas songs on my list were ostensibly lullabies (albeit lullabies to the infant Christ), they still sound sombre. That which is sombre can be sad and mournful, but it can also be restful and reflective; after all, most people prefer to be in darkness to sleep. Darkness and shadow are essential for rest and sleep; in other words, the darkness is where we process and consolidate.

With that, I shall offer you my best wishes for 2025. Thanks for reading.