I love...

My students. It is so gratifying when someone genuinely tells you they've enjoyed your class, when people go out of their way to make it to your class. I simply cannot tell you how greatfull I feel. When I started to teach I questioned whether I would be able to comand respect within a class, but to be appreciated and enjoyed by students is a fantasy beyond my wildest dreams.

Though I must say this: learning people's names makes such a HUGE difference as an instructor. Since I got back from NY I've been making a conscious effort to learn every students nae in my classes. The value in learning a persons name, is that it builds a connection between teacher and student.
When you use a name you create an interaction, and that interaction can lead to better understanding of an individual, a relationship of sorts is instantly formed. I've enjoyed teaching in the last month more than ever, because of these relationships. I have shared more laughs with my students, more inside jokes and have helped and encouraged more people than in my past two years of teaching. I feel that I finally understand what it means to have a dialog between you and your students. I care about them, they care about me and we share with each other, my students pull me through class as much as I pull them through.

man...this love is forever.

The Whore and the Madonna

This is part of the reason I got into journalism school...

A glistening scantily clad Beyonce gyrates and rolls around in the sand, while a panel of contributors comment about her blatant display of sexuality. Interviews are incomplete without questioning celebrities how they feel they are influencing youth, and the example they are setting for the younger generation. Studies are produced showing a relationship between sex in the media and the attitudes of adolescents, yet the relationship is not clinically understood, recommendations are made. Doctors, columnists, psychologists and laymen alike point the finger at the entertainment industry, recommending parents block, censor and protect their girls from this plague of promiscuity. The injustice is not that sex and promiscuity has become prominent in the media, but rather, that through a lack of understanding we continue to perpetuate archaic gender stereotypes.

“ I feel guilty when I want to look beautiful” admits 20 year old Julie, “every time I go out shopping and I buy something I feel pretty, or god forbid, sexy, in I feel like I am just degrading myself. At the end of the day I don’t want to be seen as ‘that girl’.” Julie is among the ranks of girls who rather than turning to promiscuity as a result of the media, rejects her sexuality and femininity for fear of belittling herself. The issue that Julie addresses is one that is not often televised when it comes to the issue of sex and the media. Julie’s fear centers around becoming “that girl”: a sexually expressive, promiscuous woman compensates for a lack of intelligence with sex appeal.

Julie’s dilemma is not new; women have faced the same issue since the time of Christ. Are they virtuous, good and holy like Mary the mother of Jesus, or are they promiscuous, dirty and sinful like Mary Magdalene? Are they the Whore or the Madonna? For centuries we have taught women that intelligence and virtue are not synonymous with sexuality and free expression of femininity.

In 2007 the message is not sent through scriptures and priests but through the new voice of reason: the media. According to the New Journal of Medicine, “teenaged viewers see 143 incidents of sexual behavior on network television at prime time each week, with portrayals of three to four times as many sexual activities occurring between unmarried partners as between spouses. As much as 80% of all movies shown on network or cable television stations have sexual content. An analysis of music videos indicates that 60% portray sexual feelings and impulses,” But, could it be that it is not exposing youth sex in the media that creates the greatest damage, but it is the reaction that follows that is most damaging?

While peackocks display feathers and penguins create bugle calls; women dance, dress, and flirt seductively to attract a mate. The desire to be beautiful, sexually appealing and alluring is something that is innate to any species that intends to survive. Named one of the basic needs in Abraham Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, sex is a huge psychological motivator. Not only does sex motivate but it sells, and in a society where money equals security it is not surprising that the media capitalizes upon the power of biology.

And when media sells sex, instead of encouraging understanding and education we force censorship, installing v chips to steer our children away from indecent material. We watch and air programs on TV were critics scoff at artists who dance provocatively in music videos, we write articles about how outrageous sex in media has become. Yet very rarely do we choose to use these media conditions for educational purposes, or to empower women in their sexuality. As we choose to denounce sex in the media we teach our girls that their sexuality is dirty and shameful. This, only conflicts with the realities of the world they live in and their natural desires which only breeds further confusion.

By not teaching our girls to understand all aspects of themselves, we create an environment in which they are either ashamed of their developing sex drives, or overindulge in its temptations. We continue to teach that there are two routes, the virtuous and the un-virtuous. And it is this that is the greatest tragedy. Because we lack the ability to become open-minded we rob our girls of developing into empowered intellectuals who are fully realized sexually, able to both indulge and censor themselves within reason.

It is not sex that we should be battling, or the desire to be sexy or even the exposure of our youth to sex. What we should be fighting is ignorance, and we should empower our girls to discover their sexuality in a healthy way. We should teach them that they can be sexy and intelligent, appealing and independent, strong and beautiful, and that all of these virtues are synonymous with becoming a fully realized woman. We should teach our girls that they can be both the Whore and the Madonna, and they need not be ashamed of either aspect of who they are.

By Barbora Simek

Barbora's Favorite Things

yeah yeah... I copied Oprah so deal with it

Pigma Micron Pens 0.01

These fineliners not only provide a clear and fine line, but feature archival waterproof ink. Ideal for folks like yours truly, who have been known to spill water-bottles all over their journals.

MAC Eyeshadow

Alright, everyone knows that MAC is superior in providing a wicked spectrum of vibrant colour. But a lesser known fact is how long wearing this stuff is. Look, I do Bikram yoga, so I sweat hard. After a night of hardcore dance-floor destroying, a few wee hours of sleep, copious amounts of alcohol I have been known to show up to teach yoga class looking like I was ready for the golden globes....let's see L'Oreal do that. (not that I condone sleeping in make up)

And...during teary therapy sessions MAC always stays put and looks good as new as long as you dab, don't smudge.

Coconut Water

Electrolytes up the ying yang, this naturally delicious drink is delish after a hard workout...try it!!

iEverything

phone, laptop, earphones, TV, tunes, laptop.... long story short I love apple. Bite me.

Nikon D40

My lightweight baby is so ideal for a pro shot in a heartbeat. Love this camera for shooting life's kodak moments.

MAC Lillacrush Lip Gelle

Lipgloss thats slippery not sticky...so pucker up!!

NARS Minoii BodyGlow

There is a reason why the ancients lathered themselves in oil. Oil makes skin glisten in a way that makes lotion jealous. Not only that but lotion is full of synthetic stabilizers to keep it emulsified, leaving that slippery feeling as a result of your skins inability to absorb the junk. This dry oil not only absorbs better but smells like you want to jump between the sheets to boot.

more to come....

Adieu

Dear Vancouver,

I will never tire of your views. Watching the back allies of Gastown grow nearer and nearer on the sea buss will whet my appetite for your streets forever. My westcoast princess, watching the september sun reveal the intricacy of your peaks, bathing in your emerald green waters and searching for cafes amidst your city streets will draw me back time and time again. No, Vancouver, our love affair is far from over. You will always be my metropolitan portal to the wild, my dewed oasis and my home.

But my dearest, things have to change, we cannot move forward the same that we have . I feel caught and stiffed in your smallness, a quaint city no more, I feel held within your perimeters. And now to grow I must outgrow your city limits and move east. Search for a new spaces, places and faces to fertilize the next growth spurt.

My dear, lets make the most of these final moments. I want to see you in your element, be it rain, sun, wind or snow I want to experience the best of you. Let us make lasting memories so that when we part your brilliance will shine so bright in my memory I will be forced to return to you.

love

Barb

Its time you all knew that....

I have a therapist.

Yes a therapist, a certified psychologist, a counselor, a "shrink". And I am not embarrassed or shy to admit it. Yet by admitting it I have been startled by people's reactions...

"Wow, thank you for sharing something so private with me"

"That is so brave of you to admit that you are in therapy"

"Really!?! Wow! I had no idea"

Am I missing something? Why is being in therapy such a big deal?

We have all dealt with shit in our lives. Some of us more than others, but whether it was your parents, the bullies on the playground or the super models in the magazines at some point we get fucked up by life. The only difference is that some wear their wounds better than others, some people's pain you can see others you can't.

I became an expert at hiding mine, only when I hid my pain I hid my brilliance as well. There were a lot of trip ups that lead me there, but ended up seeing an image of myself so skewed I would have fallen into a life far less rewarding.

So yes, I am in therapy and I am damn proud of it, because it is not easy! There were whole weeks where I felt I was wearing my emotional turmoil on the surface of my skin and every bump stung like a fresh wound. And after months of dealing, sifting through old ideas, of struggling to go against my conditioning, I am not ashamed; not of crying on the bus, not of freaking out unnecessarily and not of admitting I am in THERAPY.

Top 10 Reasons I <3 NY

My love affair is with New York is no secret. I've wanted to live there since I was 13, and as I grow older my passion grows deeper. After this years two week excursion I have come up with this top ten list.

10. The Museum of Natural History...

I walked through this place with my mouth gaping open, tripping over my own feet with delight. Someone designed this place with me in mind, artifacts, rocks, civilizations and evolution, science and archeology, and dinosaurs. Where was this museum when I was 8?

9. The Scented Candles...

Okay, designer scented candles in Vancouver are an arm and leg ( I know because I have paid it) but in New York not so much. New York boutiques almost always carry at least one, if not three, lines of scented candles. Not only that but they also burn one of these candles so that every boutique has its own signature scent.

8. At the club...

The girls apologize when they step on your shoes. And do so sincerely. No joke!! Not only that, they are aware of your shoes, and make a conscious effort not to step on your shoes, even when drunk!! I was speechless... I ended up thanking a girl for apologizing for stepping on my darling Mui Muis.

7. Diversity...

I found it so fascinating really being surrounded by people of so many different cultures. Not only that, but the diversity leads you to be able to experience so many fascinating culinary adventures. What struck me most about New York's diversity is being able to experience something so wholly outside of your own reality. Stereotypes are shattered and simultaneously confirmed, while understanding is deepened. Experiences can be uncomfortable, awkward, inspiring, surprising but are always interesting.

6. The Neighborhoods...

Chelsea and its museums, Lower East Side and its vintage stores, Midtown with its glitz and glam, and the list goes on. Emerging from the subway one never knows what exactly to expect, what is for sure is the that your experience will be different and intriguing. Whats more is the architecture that is scattered through these neighborhoods is a delightful juxtaposition of old and new. Gothic churches lie next to skyscrapers, while 80's box apartments stand across the street and brownstones are littered throughout.

5. The Subway...

yes there are rats, and congestion, homeless people and often unpleasant odors. But the system is so comprehensive traveling around Manhattan is incredibly easy.

4. "Junk" Food...

New Yorkers know how to do the bagel and cream cheese thing so well. A bagel comes with its own weight in delicious artery clogging cream cheese, and is dense yet fluffy, not a brick as is the Canadian custom. And of course...there is no such thing as a bad slice in NY. I have no clue what they do to make their pizza taste so good, whatever it is they are doing it right!!

3. Art...
The Met, MOMA, Broadway and Lincon Center are just the beginning. Art rivals litter in this city, found in the most unlikely of places: the walls of the subway stations, decorating barbed wire fences, unlikely theaters up precarious staircases and the t shirt of someone passing by. Public art is provocative and whether it is appealing or not always leads to good discussion. Whether your tastes are classical, modern or something altogether different, the New York art scene will have something for you.

2. The men...

I knew I had landed in New York when the border guard spent more time hitting on me than asking me the regulatory questions. When a man checks you out in this city, he wants to get caught. When you look good, you KNOW you look good. In the clubs, when you dance the men don't scurry into corners like nocturnal creatures running from lamplight, they step up and buy you a drink....LOVE IT!!!

1. The NY attitude...

there is no time for bullshit in New York. People are upfront, honest and kind. They will give you honest directions, they will check you out and tell you what they think. Go to coffee by yourself, and you can still have endless conversations with the surrounding clientele. With people being so upfront and honest, you are forced to throw your facades by the wind and act from an authentic place. Forget passive aggressive bullshit, forget manipulation, and welcome in honesty and truth. Thats what makes New York my favorite place on earth.

Resurection...

Of the blog.

So its been a while. Slowly and cumulatively I have been realizing constructive having a blog can be. I have so many ideas for things that I would like to write about yet so few of them come to be materialized. Yet I never lifted a pen or finger. I figure that publishing my own blog is a good step along the road to getting someone else to publish me.

So, here goes nothing. I hope you all chose to tune in and enjoy.

Much love

B

In the span of a year....

I will see this veiw...

Grandma, I'm comming home

5:55

My eyes tore open and adjusted to the dim light. The emerald blue sky outside denoted that the hours had sunk far into evening. I lay immobile for decades of seconds, the stiffness of dehydration had flooded my joints and masterfully engineered a deep throbbing between my temples . This alone made the ascent from the floor agonizing....'What time is it?' I muttered to myself, before glimpsing the alarm clock planted at my feet. '5:55' it blurted in rhythmic flashes, the symmetry of the hour mocking my disheveled condition.

Shaking my head I attempted to make sense of the past couple of hours, 'or was it minutes?' I caught myself mid thought. It all seemed so unfeasible and yet all the while so real. I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to travel back to the warmth of the summer night...

Desiring fresh air, I left the amber glow of midsummer festivities and stepped out onto the dimly lit balcony. My shoes created a rhythmic clicking on the concrete balcony, while my black dress moved slightly in the warm evening breeze. With a glass of champagne in my hand I leaned against the ivy clad raining to admire the sight before me. The penthouse suite offered an unparalleled view of the city, skyscrapers littered the skyline, glittering like diamonds with spectrums of light that shone from within. But tonight it was not the city that took my breath away, but the sky that hung above.

Not a single cloud hung in the bronze sky. What I had always known to be a black or blue heaven at such a late hour , now displayed magnificent sepia tones. Rich and deep brown melted into blood red, rose quartz pink, to light amber and then beige. The sky was lit with more stars than I had seen on the darkest of nights far from the obtrusive lights of the city. It was as if a nebula from the farthest reaches of the galaxy had made its way to neighbor our blue and green planet lending its gas, plasma and dust to provide a night time spectacular unlike that which I had ever seen.

Momentarily, I looked back to the warmth of the party continuing on behind me and smiled at the moment's perfection. Turning back to the perfect sky, my breath stopped, in slow motion my glass slipped from fingers, danced with gravity as it fell before shattering into hundreds of peices on the concrete some three stories below. I could not believe my eyes, this surely could not be. I ran... back through the party, out the apartment down the swirling staircase, out of the doors to the street below. I couldn't understand. It did not make sense, no force of nature, no force of man could create the scene that was playing before my eyes. I fell to the corner of the sidewalk with my eyes glued to the sky. An intuitive knowledge rose from within, and I knew that this was not no show, no figment of my imagination but true and real events unfolding in the most impossible of circumstances.

They had hung the Golden Gate Bridge in the sky. Hundreds of clouds colored in the same sepia tones as the night sky composed its grandeur. The clouds hung together like the interconnected tissues of magnified marrow. The strength of one of the worlds greatest architectural wonders was made known simply by its colossal size and impeccable symmetry as it floated nearer and nearer. Soon it took up more than half of the heavens, before silently and abruptly, it stopped. Though its position ceased to grow nearer, the scene continued to move in a now different and unfathomable way.

Slowly the clouds began to break away, falling away like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle turned to an angle not suited to the laws set by gravity's dictatorship. Had I been able to utter words I would have alerted all those inside, but due to the sheer impossibility of what was happening I could spare none. With my mouth gaping open, I watched as bit by bit the bridge fell to shambles. It was what happened next that silenced more than my voice, but the onslaught of loud thoughts as my mind struggled to make sense of it all.

With the clouds falling faster and faster, it became clear that the bridge would soon cease to retain a perceptible form. As the final grouping of clouds fell away, the air trembled and the sky exploded. Thousands of black birds projected through the hole in the sky where the bridge had once stood. I followed as the massive flock of black silhouettes dis burst across the sky. And then my eyes fell upon them..... the Empire State, The Pyramids and several other architectural marvels of the world were suspended in the heavens above. Piece by piece they too began to fall apart.

Crowds of pedestrians had begun to form through the streets, all pointing, all waiting in horror as their minds slowly began to conceive of the horror of dissipating reality. The clouds forming buildings and monuments began falling apart quicker and quicker, soon a cannon of black bird explosions was beginning to fill the sky. Soundlessly they soured as the sky's darkness increased, soon very little of the night's sky was visible. Black engulfed every single corner of the sky. It seemed to me that the world had never been so still, had never been so silent, paralysis had infiltrated all living things, no a soul had the courage to breath or blink. Motionless fear slowly began filling the spirits of all and a shallow murmur gave way to terrified screams as blackness began to descend upon the earth. I stood still as frantic crowds began to dash through the streets. I observed in petrified horror as the buildings around me began to slowly fall apart soon become un-recognizable. Intuitively I knew what was to happen next. As I closed my eyes, I began to feel the soft caress of wings, opening them again I found myself surrounded in darkness. Now I knew...this was the end.

I fell through space, through time, and was born to this floor, this time 5:55. Stiff and sore I lie surrounded by black.... with no past, no present, no future. No hope.

We the mourning.....

"What becomes of a man in his final hour?

What forces draw his soul toward his final rest?

And why?

What sensations does he feel with his last synapses'?

And why?

What final images project in his mind?

And why?

Most of all...... WHY?"

We the mourning ask.

We the mourning, as we are defined: those who have lost. Those who remain to endure the pain of having one ripped from our lives. The tear that leaves us torn......

Torn and asking same questions posed for centuries....

"Why?"

Whole heavens have been constructed....

and still it is not enough.

Schemes of justification have been created....

and still it is not enough.

We are still left sifting through facts, ideals and ideas, measuring the good and the bad the pro and con alike, yet the scales of justice never balance. The cold facts prick like thorn to the very tissue of the heart. Each death, individual in circumstance is similar in tragedy. Yet the tragedy is ours to own. Their souls have departed, be it cruelly or un, they are at rest, whether in a place far from earth, or destined to the very soils that once gave them life. No, it is us: the mourning, that live to endure the pain of loss .

And though we are the mourning, we are also the blessed. It is our lives that were blessed to be touched by the soul and the presence of the departed. The depth and magnitude of our pain a testimonial to the depth and magnitude of the person. Though it is our curse to be the mourning, it is our blessing to be those that loved, laughed, and shared in the life of another.

In memory of Brendan Midgley, though we are sad to see you go, we will always remain proud to have known you...

Random...

Wicked band you should all check out :

"TV on the Radio"

Suzanne's Message...

The heat and discomfort of my condition left me fleeing the yoga room in an angry frenzy. With my mind spinning, I fell into a white leather couch in the marble lobby of the Yoga college. I could have chosen to venture outside and soak in the warm California sun, but the soft body of the couch held my body just right and the warm breeze flowing past the glass doors soothed my mind. I sat, breathing deeply, trying to dissipate the subsequent dizziness of deciding what the information, pain, ridiculous amount of yoga really meant to me. I planned on spending the few hours relaxing in that very spot, soaking in my silence and stillness...

But then, I caught a scent, a perfume so sweet I had to know what it was so that I could have it for myself. Surely, it was not one of my fellow trainees; hygiene had become as basic as possible in order to conserve energy, and cut down time spent in the washroom shared by some 180 exasperated yoginis. No, it was not one of the women I sweat alongside with day in and day out, it was the colourful woman who sat next to me.

She turned to Rachel and I and asked with wide eyes " How is training going?" we answered with slight enthusiasm, our answers not nearly as in depth as she obviously desired. Unsatisfied with our run of the mill, "Oh its going really well, hard, but really good," she continued to ask question after question. At some point I found the annoyance of having my peace robbed by an inquiring stranger dissipate. In its place grew a fascination with the things she was telling me. We began with sharing basic facts about ourselves, our backgrounds and our practices.

Her name was Suzanne, a jewelry designer and practitioner of 5 years, she had recently made LA her home after moving from New York. Soon our conversation began to journey down many different paths, exploring a variety of topics. Two of those paths we traveled, left their sights so deeply ingrained in my mind that I feel an absolute necessity to share them.

" Fear," I said, "I've always had a negative relationship with the emotion, if you can call it that. But I am beginning to feel that even fear has its purpose. Fear somewhat serves to give us some sort of guidance, to keep us in check."

"I understand your point," she said, "and I could even argue it. But I've come to understand something different about fear. I truly feel that there it has no productivity. That decisions should rather be made based on knowledge and not fear. '
' For example, imagine I was in Hawaii, standing alone on a beach late at night. And, imagine that there is nothing that I would rather do than take a swim. Taking into consideration that there is a rocky shore, and as the tide comes in the swells are huge with the dark making things hard to see, swimming is really, not such a good idea. But, if I were to make that decision based on fear, I do nothing but demean myself. I debilitated by being in a position where I feel I cannot do something.
'If, however, I can look out at the waves understand their purpose and my purpose; and realize, that at that time of night, on the rocky shores as the tide comes in our purposes have nothing to do with each other. I can then make my decision not to swim based on knowledge, empowering myself rather than choosing to cower in fear. This way I know that I am capable of swimming, but it results in consequences I would not gladly endure. In this situation fear and knowledge lead to the same conclusions, but choosing to be fearful only made me weak, where knowledge gave me power."

Our conversation continued to grow, and take many twists and turns until our discussion arrived at the intersection of..

"Insecurity?" Though it was one word, I said it knowing she would understand I sought to know what she had to say.
"No need for it." Suzanne began, "There is a realization we all must make in our time here. There has never been a person like you that has walked this earth, and there will never be another like you again. This in itself, the very fact you exist, is a gift! You are an individual and a miracle, and being given the privilege of existence it is you DUTY to live to your best potential. There is no use looking around seeing what so-and-so is doing in hopes that you can be him or her, because you can never be that person. You can only be you, and to be the best you is the most beautiful and powerful achievement. '
'Not only is it important to realize this about ourselves, but its important to realize this about others as well. Its too easy to look at others and put ourselves on a pedestal. I am a jewelry designer, but that makes me no better than the guy who drives the garbage truck down the road. I don't look at him feeling sorry and say 'Gee, I'm glad that's not my job,' I NEED him! He NEEDS me! All of us are dependent on each other, and no one is better than the other, we all have our own role to play.
'When put in the context of insecurity, attempting to play someone else's role in life, by putting ourselves down, by seeking to be like someone else, doesn't contribute to the greater picture: the interplay between us all. It simply robs us of another brilliant person strong in their individuality. Be yourself, be proud; don't try to fit into a mold you do not fit into, because the only mold that fits is, in fact, your own."

The words that Suzanne left me within the hour and half we spent talking on the couch, have continued to touch me and change the way I view and conduct myself in my day to day situations. I strive to always remember that we all have our path, beauty and purpose, and in understanding and appreciating this in others and our environment, we can all live a life rich with knowledge and power, free of fear and inhibition.

Random....

FACT:

Most elephants weigh less than the tounge of a blue whale.

Christmas...

It seems that every year the discussion of what Christmas has come to mean in our modern society intensifies. Christmas was once defined by celebrating the birth of Christ, and the beginning of his coming. Yet now, in the year of 2005, Christmas is seemingly a prisoner of corporation, tortured into relinquishing its once holy meaning, beaten into telling us to 'Buy! Buy! Buy! Though Christmas controversy is seemingly new it has, in fact, surrounded the holiday since its inception. However the question remains; has Christmas lost all its meaning, or is it simply undergoing a metamorphosis coming to mean something new?

Christmas is known to be a celebration of the birth of Christ. Yet even this is a falsehood, as many historians have come to agree. According to descriptions from the Bible, "shepherds [were] living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night." (Luke 2:8) This passage alone has led historians to believe that Christ was in fact born in spring or summer months as the winters would have been to harsh for people to sleep exposed to the elements. So why is it that the eve of December 24th and day of December 25th was in fact selected?

As Christian powers seized Europe, a challenge lay in converting the masses from the dominant religions of the times which varied from Paganism, Roman mythological beliefs, to local and regional beliefs throughout Europe. To achieve conversion, action was taken to replace existing traditions with those of Christian origin; in doing so eliminating the religions they were associated with. During December many of these religions observed mid-winter festivals, and traditions while others paid homage to different gods.

In Rome, the festival of Saturnalia was celebrated from December 14th to 25th paying homage to the god of peace and plenty : Saturn. During this time of "relaxation and merriment ..law courts were closed. No public business could be transacted. Schools kept holiday." Wars and Punishment ceased and gambling was condoned by the government. The French celebrated the 'Festival of Fools' on December 26th during which the English Lords of Misrule paraded as mock clergy, bishops, popes, abbots and archbishops. Babylonians, Egyptians and Germans observed mid-winter and fertility festivals. The Persians celebrated the birth of their sun-god, Mithras, on the 25th of December. Because the coming of winter ended the growing season, Scandinavians celebrated the festival of 'Yule', during which festivities were conducted void of spirituality. Mistletoe and holly, thought to be important symbols of fertility by the Celts, decorated homes. While Druids, who worshiped trees as a religious symbols, held sacred ceremonies around evergreens. Most of these festivals were accompanied by glutinous feasting, gift giving, endless celebration and indulgence.

It wasn't until 350 ACE, that Pope Julius I named the 25th of December as the day of Christ's birth. An action, thought by many historians, taken to make the conversion to Christianity easier for a population so accustomed to winter festivities. Not surprisingly, since its inception the tradition of Christmas has been shrowded in controvercy. Early outrage was expressed by members of the clergy who believed the birth of Christ should be a holiday focused on the simplicity of nativity rather than a holiday celebrated with the sins of indulgence. Exactly 1,655 years later and the tradition of Christmas is still hotly debated.

In 2005,the true meaning of Christmas is at stake as we buy more and more each year. In the year 2004, shoppers in Canada alone spent a staggering $34.5 billion on retail goods. On average, per Canadian, that's a whopping $804 each! These figures, released by Statistics Canada did not include any sales made in the automotive retail sector. It is such information that leaves many with substantial evidence to support the claim that Christmas, has simply become a marketing tool.

'The Christmas Resistance Movement' (www.xmasresistance.org) proclaims that "holiday shopping is offensive and wasteful... Christmas "wish lists" and "gift exchanges" degrade the concept of giving" ; in light of this they call on readers to boycott Christmas. Refusing to subscribe to any Christmas traditions from gifts and cards to decorations, 'The Christmas Resistance Movement,' seeks to show their care to their family at this time of year by giving the gift of time. Is this just another case of counter culture madness, or a view of things to come?

As atheism increases in the 21st century, so does the mass of those who appreciate Christmas without religious or spiritual reason. Though Christmas is still a time of celebration and indulgence it is quickly being stripped of its traditional, "birth of Christ" meaning. But, is a new meaning begining to arise? Surely one could argue so. Stemming out of sentiments of old, many are beginning to feel that Christmas is simply a time for family and friends. And while it is true that the materialism of Christmas has increased, one could argue that this too is a reflection of the desire to treat those who we hold dear to our hearts. Need this be done by spending $804 per Canadian? Definitely not. But as we progress to an age where tradition is fading, it is important to remember that not all is lost. Even the members of 'the Christmas Resistance Movement' would have to admit that despite rampant materialism, the holidays still remain a time of family. Christmas is one of the few times of year people go the extra mile to connect and celebrate with those close of kin, whether they are armed with a bounty of gifts or not.

Regardless of the arguments that can be made, Christmas will remain forever immersed in controversy and debate. It has been this way since Pope Julius I's declaration some 1,655 years ago, and will surely remain so for 1,655 years more. Whether the meaning of this holiday changes again in years to come, one thing remains certain, the populous will always demand a reason to spend mid winter celebrating and indulging with those who mean the most; its been this way for centuries, and surely will remain so for centuries to come.


Bilibiography:
http://www.xmasresistance.org/
http://www.ccg.org/english/s/p235.html
http://www.christmas-time.com/ct-history.htm
http://de.essortment.com/christmaspagan_rece.htm
http://www.biblegateway.com/
http://www.cbc.ca/news/background/holidays/sales.html