On Believing in Believers: *SANTA*

G. K. Chesterton met up with me last night in my mind's eye at the corner of where Spirit meets Spark and I'm pretty sure he conveyed that the whole *Believing* theme was well worthy of another good hark. Indeed, it heralds good things to be and that . . . well that harbingers well with me.

Dear BIJOU afficiandos, will you kindly sit back and pour out a cup of your brand of good cheer? Take your mind back, back to the wonders of any good year. Are you there? Can you sense anticipation, taste the jubilation? Christmas is coming and holidays sparkling all hues.

Share this moment with a True Believer's good muse?

On Believing in Believers: *SANTA*
G.K. Chesterton preponderizing to Absolutely*Kate
on the day he missed his train again:

"What has happened to me has been the very reverse of what appears to be the experience of most of my friends. Instead of dwindling to a point, Santa Claus has grown larger and larger in my life until he fills almost the whole of it.

It happened in this way. As a child I was faced with a phenomenon requiring explanation. I hung up at the end of my bed an empty stocking, which in the morning became a full stocking. I had done nothing to produce the things that filled it. I had not worked for them, or made them or helped to make them. I had not even been good-— far from it. And the explanation was that a certain being whom people called Santa Claus was benevolently disposed toward me; what we believed was that a certain man did give us those toys for nothing.

And, as I say, I believe it still. I have merely extended the idea. Then I only wondered who put the toys in the stocking; now I wonder who put the stocking by the bed, and the bed in the room, and the room in the house, and the house on the planet, and the great planet in the void. Once I only thanked Santa Claus for a few dolls and crackers, now I thank him for stars and street faces and wine and the great sea. Once I thought it delightful and astonishing to find a present so big that it only went halfway into the stocking. Now I am delighted and astonished every morning to find a present so big that it takes two stockings to hold it, and then leaves a great deal outside; it is the large and preposterous present of myself, as to the origin of which I can offer no suggestion except that Santa Claus gave it to me in a fit of peculiarly fantastic good will."

* * * * * *
G.K. Chesterton didn't sail his ceaseless wordflow upon the multi-billowing genres of the Harbinger*33, though I do know within me, (where it counts the most), he too would believe wholeheartedly in this journey of a literary venture to showcase 33 stellar authors of growing renown. You see, he missed where he was going to get to where he was when writing profusely on trains as our Mull does. He had a twinkle in his eye and a joke about his demeanour as our Music Mike Whitney does. He smoked a cigar in the same devil-may-care manner that Anthony does down in Bukowski's basement when his lovin' wife thinks he's just blowing smoke. He laughed in the face of those who challenge *magic* as our jaunty Jodi does again-and-again-and-then-some. He gave good solemn counsel, as does our Sal. Oh there's more . . . but he'll be back again and then I'll tell you then.

For now, do keep on readying your holiday ambiance of mind and spirit.
~ Absolutely Christmas*Kate!