Brightly Coloured Feathers

Yippieeeeeeeeeee! Last day ahead of what’s bound to be a wonderful Easter and four whole days off! Cannot wait! No plans – just chill, eat and drink nice stuff. No Sauv for me obviously but contrary to what I believed when I first quit drinking I don’t miss it one bit. Nothing has changed except I feel really, really good and never have to have any day ruined by a crippling hangover. Oh, I’ve got a bit fat due to discovering chocolate and sweets (so THIS is what they were saying all along?!) but reckon I’ll be back to normal soon with all this walking and even if I stay fat that’s OK because I love my walks and I love my life and I sit very comfortably on my fat ass.

So…. Easter. What’s with the chickens and eggs and feathers? I wonder how that happened. So here I am, a Christian, and the elders have instructed me to come up with a way of marking our leader being nailed to a cross and dying a terrible death and then celebrate how he came back to life again. I’ve gone to a top notch PR agency to see what they come up with.

Chickens!” they exclaim, “you need lots of chickens!

OK,” I say and make notes, “what else?

Maybe a hare?” they suggest with a hopeful look on their faces.

Chickens and a hare? How do they go together?” I ask.

What does it matter, it’ll be wonderful! Don’t you want to celebrate your leader coming back to life? I thought you wanted a good celebration and now you doubt the hare?

OK, fine, we’ll have a hare too and we’ll call him the Easter Bunny,” I reply as I scribble away on my notepad. “And how do we really emphasise how the Lord died for our sins?

An Easter egg hunt for the children!” one PR person tells me with a broad smile.

Why eggs?” I ask, a little confused.

Because of all the chickens! They lay eggs!

Oh yeah, the chickens,” I sigh and slap my forehead, “forgot about them. And the kids have to look for the eggs by way of remembering our leader died for our sins?

Don’t worry about the whys or the hows! You have the chickens to lay the eggs and then you pluck their feathers and paint them in bright colours and put them everywhere for decoration, then the hare steals the eggs and hides them so the children have to look for them,” another PR dude explains patiently.

I’m not getting how this has anything to do with crucifixion though?” I ask cautiously and quickly add, “but I’m sure that’s just me being a little daft.

The PR folk exchange glances and whisper a little between them and I feel really daft indeed. After a few more glances and whispers they turn back to me with their best Patient Teacher expressions on their faces.

Just sort out the chickens, will you,” they tell me, “and all will be revealed“.

Fantastic – I’m sure it’ll all make perfect sense! Thank you,” I tell them and feel all happy that it’s turned out so well.

No, seriously – how did it all come about? Although I suspect just like with Christmas, a relatively small proportion of those who celebrate it do so for any religious reasons and the rest of us just appreciate the old dude from Coca Cola commercials and thought Christmas trees and twinkling lights looked better against snow and darkness than it might have on a sunny day on the beach. (Sorry, antipodeans). But isn’t this the case of so much religion or any other philosophy or teaching? It just doesn’t have to make sense – just go ahead and do it, don’t ask questions, blindly believe and you MIGHT find out one day what the answers are and if you don’t it’s because you didn’t believe enough.

As with any “religious” celebration, it is customary to drink lots of alcohol and of course Easter is no exception. And Jesus DID turn water into wine, after all. It’d be rude not to get on the booze to honour him, wouldn’t it? Anyway. Part of me thinks I should sit here and say oh what will I do but I am still, it seems, on the Pink Cloud and this long weekend ahead isn’t impacted in any way on whether I’ll have water, tomato juice or unicorn tears. When am I going to start pining for a glass (or ten, rather – or whatever number will get me to black-out) of Sauvignon Blanc with soda? It hasn’t happened yet and even in moments when I try to look for or remember its appeal I just don’t see it – it would only ruin everything and add nothing good that’d possibly make up for it. Plus, it wouldn’t even taste nice. Funny, I can’t for the life of me understand why I kept drinking for as long as I did. Madness, absolute madness. Or, as we say in Sweden: late shall the sinner wake. BUT, as we say both here and in Sweden: better late than never!

Today I am not going to drink! Happy Easter to you – may it be wonderful no matter how you celebrate it!

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