Dear Santa Claus God,

What were you thinking? As naughty as I have been (and will continue to be), you have given me much love pressed down and running over. Should you not have taken me on your knee and given me a paddling?

I got up to see gifts I am not worthy to receive and we promised each other “no gifts.” That’s a joke. You have seen to it that I write stuff that people actually enjoy reading, even when I make them cry. I will keep on doing it, too.

You would think, dear SCG, that I would quit pestering you with requests for “more,” when you and I both know that less is more (more or less ;))

I call you SCG because I never ask you for anything that is not ultimately selfish and therefore wrong-headed. I used to think I could be a teacher and so you saw to it that I became firmly rooted in my student-hood. The apprenticeship to you is lifelong and there is no getting out of the contract.

I have abandoned the word “nonduality.” That should make you happy. Now I aim for higher healing; that is, not done by me. I have nothing to give but what I know to be already known.

I know you want me to be a better receiver than I have been. Thank God you don’t mean on the football field because I have a bad back and am a girl. No, you want me to receive bad stuff right along with the good stuff. Things like overcooked pasta and cowlicks that foil any effort to tame them.

You are probably getting tired of reading this, so bye for now. I will catch you in the funny papers. And when I do, I will forget that it is you that I see everywhere. That is how you know the naughty from the nice, isn’t it?

Just don’t blow my cover. I need to keep a modicum of privacy. That is why I disguise myself as a silver-haired old broad when you and I both know I am an angel with her wings on fire headed for a nose dive into your arms. It has ever been thus. Your arms are so big there is always room for one more. Selah!

Keeping it real,
Your child, Vicki