Merry Christmas

Dear friends, It' s an atypical Christmas because of the COVID-19 pandemic, but that doesn't mean we should lose our good vibes in such complicated situations.


We wish you a peaceful Christmas with words of Rudolf Steiner: "The Festival of Christmas which we shall soon be celebrating acquires new life when a deeper, more spiritual conception of the world is brought to bear upon it. In a spiritual sense the Christmas Festival is a Festival of the Sun, and as such we shall think of it to-day. To begin with, let us listen to the beautiful apostrophe to the sun which Goethe puts into the mouth of Faust: — Life's pulses newly-quickened now awaken, Softly to greet the ethereal twilight leaping; Thou Earth through this night too hast stood unshaken, And at my feet fresh breathest from thy sleeping. Thou girdest me about with gladness, priming My soul to stern resolve and strenuous keeping, Onward to strive, to highest life still climbing. — Unfolded lies the world in twilight-shimmer; With thousand throated song the woods are chiming; The dales, where through the mist-wreaths wind, lie dimmer, Yet heavenly radiance plumbs the deeps unnumbered, And bough and twig, new-quickened, bud and glimmer Forth from the fragrant depths where sunk they slumbered, Whilst hue on hue against the gloom still heightens, Where bloom and blade with quivering pearls are cumbered. A very Paradise about me lightens! Look up! — The giant peaks that rise supernal Herald the solemn hour; for them first brightens The early radiance of the light eternal, Upon us valley-dwellers later showered. Now are the green-sunk, Alpine meadows vernal With radiance new and new distinctness dowered, And stepwise downward hath the splendour thriven. He sallies forth, and I mine overpowered And aching eyes to turn away am driven. Thus when a yearning hope, from fear and wonder Up to the highest wish in trust hath striven, The portals of fulfilment yawn asunder. Then bursts from yonder depths whose days ne'er dwindle Excess of flame — we stand as smit with thunder. The torch of life it was we sought to kindle, A sea of fire-and what a fire! — hath penned us. Is't Love? Is't Hate? that yonder glowing spindle In bliss and bale alternating tremendous About us twines, till we the dazed beholders To veil our gaze in Earth's fresh mantle wend us. Nay then, the sun shall bide behind my shoulders! The cataract, that through the gorge doth thunder, I'll watch with growing rapture, 'mid the boulders From plunge to plunge down-rolling, rent asunder In thousand thousand streams, aloft that shower Foam upon hissing foam, the depths from under. Yet blossoms from this storm a radiant flower; The painted rainbow bends its changeful being, Now lost in air, now limned with clearest power, Shedding this fragrant coolness round us fleeing. Its rays an image of man's efforts render; Think, and more clearly wilt thou grasp it, seeing Life in the many-hued, reflected splendour." Berlin, 17th December, 1906 GA 96 May this Christmas turn every wish into a flower, every pain into a star, every tear into a smile and every heart into a sweet home. Merry Christmas! We would be delighted to see you again next year. With sunny greetings from Lanzarote The team of the Centro


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