CHRISTMAS INSOCULATION
CHRISTMAS INOSCULATION
By John Thomas Tuft
The blue, white and gray stripes of the winter sky scuttle across the tops of the Blue Ridge like some immense waving flag of the confederation of nature and the gods. In a world that human beings decided was created especially for themselves, “a voiceless song in an aging light” story of conquests and oppressions, explorers, and reckless redeemers, barely through the doorway of winter solstice comes a festival in many realms. In the myriad of gemels that occur around us constantly, often unawares, perhaps none is more joyous than the pause to immerse ourselves in pious reflection and celebration. Our longing for what surely must be ‘other’ than ourselves gives rise to Christmas, Hanukkah, Yule or the Feast of Juul, Druidic hanging of mistletoe, Isis giving birth to the sun god Horus, the Thirteen Moons of Indigenous cultures with men doing the traditional women’s work as Mother Earth begins her rest, and on and on. In short, we need stuff to mean something. We demand gemels that pair our experiences with some divine reasoning. For one of our deepest fears is that we are all we have to work with in life.
So it was, in those days that a decree went out from west of Westeros, across the Sunset Sea, and from the depths of Narnia where the Deplorable Word is banished, reaching those huddled in the dwellings of Muggles with a summons to Hogwarts, even to Skywalkers learning to be Jedis fighting galactic evil empires, that all the world was to learn a story. One story. The story of Cathy and Carl’s Christmas Inosculation. Cathy and Carl were born as cojoined twins. Two completely different and separate bodies except for the one organ that cojoined them. Cathy and Carl shared one heart. Separate brains, each their own pair of arms and legs, separate faces, bellies, and genitalia. But one heart and one heart only. As a result, that heart became the center of their existence. And rest assured, the question at the end of the story is far different than that of Maximus Decimus Meridious in Gladiator, “Are you not entertained?”
As with all children, as long as their basic needs are met — trust, love, food, shelter, security — hurts and fears and doubts can be assuaged. As you can well imagine, sharing a heart brings with it a unique set of challenges when there is only one to go around. Young children can be taught to share and even derive pleasure from it. So it was with Cathy and Carl. Their early years held challenges, to be sure. Yet, they learned together, played together, shared together, wept together. As long as they stayed connected to their one heart, all was well. But children do not remain children. They grow and change, develop their own interests, their own needs, their own loves, their own desires. Thus it was with Cathy and Carl.
Two human beings. One heart. Carl grew interested in sports. Cathy liked to read and use her imagination. Cathy wanted to travel before college. Carl wanted to stay home near his girlfriend. Carl wants to live in the city, Cathy in the mountains. Cathy is a vegan; Carl is red meat to the core. Carl can be reckless, trying dangerous things. Cathy keeps a focused eye on every penny and drives like a Franciscan monk. Cathy finds purpose and meaning in a quiet, reflective faith. Carl wants to undo injustices, by force if need be. Cathy carries a book of Rumi poetry; Carl carries a gun. Two human beings. One heart. Who love each other with their whole heart.
Cathy begins to feel tired a lot. She is diagnosed with blood cancer, leukemia, if you must know. The shared heart is threatened. Cathy needs it for the strength to fight her illness. Carl needs it to be a barrier that sustains him and fends off disease. Neither of them can live without it. Should Carl ask for a heart transplant to keep him safe and sound? Should Cathy yield to the inevitable and give up the shared heart for the sake of her brother? It sustains them both in life. It binds them together. Two human beings. One heart.
Who gets custody of the one true heart? Contraptions and technologies, religions and philosophies, borders and beatitudes, best practices of natural stewardship and sustainability and sheer joy — all can be consulted and applied — but who will decide? What if the world is all united by one heart? What if one heart is all that is available to move the lifeblood of energy and love of humanity — to humanity? What if a single heart keeps the pulse of community and shared needs thriving for the good of all? Who will decide who gets to claim ownership? Who will decide who has more need of it? Who will decide who lives and who gets cut off?
You will, dear reader. We all share the one heart of the world. What next? What will we do with it? This Winter Solstice, however you may celebrate it, think on these things. Ponder them in your heart. There is one heart to go around. Entrusted to your safekeeping. Not deciding is the only forbidden thing in this story. Grace and peace in the first light of the new season…
Words are magic and writers are wizards.
