It’s paradoxical, isn’t it, that the first day of winter ushers in the sun? That, as the days get longer, the cold will bite harder until it doesn’t?
Other paradoxes: the end is also the beginning; the cat in that box is both alive and dead; we are both free and chained to the laws of nature.
An oxymoron at least? But, no, a genuine paradox for some. The holidays can bring their own hardship through both our compelled connection to others as well as the lack thereof. A special case of the paradox of happiness, perhaps: we find happiness only when we stop looking for it.
Did you realize that “happiness” is etymologically rooted in “happens”?
Happiness happens; ‘tis not strained. It falleth as the gentle rain from Heaven.
As you leave campus this December, slouching toward your own private Bethlehems, crane not your necks nor strain your eyes in search of happy holidays. Let them come to you.
Oh, come, all ye fateful.