The Reason for the Season: One Heretic’s Opinion


I was raised Catholic…which technically means I was raised Christian as well. We all know how that story goes. Still, Catholic or Christian or both, I got the Joy of celebrating Christmas. I’ve always loved Christmas. Granted I used to feel a little confused as to which “God” I was actually celebrating  (Santa or Jesus) but I loved the season nonetheless. I managed to reconcile my confusion within myself by waking up each Christmas morning and singing “Happy Birthday” to Jesus before I would allow myself to excitedly rush down the stairs to see my presents under the tree: my birthday song was even complete with offering Baby Jesus a blanket to symbolically keep him warm in the manger. It was the least my seven-year old self could do after having unwittingly chosen to nail him to the cross. Truth be told, while a huge part of my childhood self wanted to do and be good simply for the sake of doing and being good, a part of me knew I was offering the blanket to ease my guilt and in the hopes of securing more presents under the tree. Oh god I remember one year even praying to Santa instead of God . . . and then having to get down on my knees to beg forgiveness from “Actual God.” What a mess!

All these years later, I don’t call myself a Catholic or a Christian . . . or “both” for that matter. But I still love Christmas. I love it because, to me, it symbolizes an eternal opportunity to give birth to Goodness within ourselves, to proclaim a resounding “Yes!” to “the Christ” within.

This year more than ever I am pondering what that really means. We hear all this talk about “putting the Christ back in Christmas.” There are as many interpretations of this sentiment as there are people on this planet. But here is the one that presently rings most true for me:

If the reason for the season isn’t to celebrate the birth of a revolutionary who stood up to social and economic injustice, racism, discrimination and political deceit–by actually doing all of these things ourselves–then I for one cannot fathom what the reason for the season would be.

My adult self is grateful to have had at least a glimpse at the Truth so that illusions might continue to shatter in the face of It. And so that I and We might seize this opportunity to be and do good for the sake of being and doing good.

The Message was never meant to be a woo-woo thing upon which rules and dogma and the like were based so as to control the masses. The Message didn’t even come from a Christian in the first place. It came from a man who would shudder, I believe, at how unrecognizable the message–supposedly reflected by our actions–really is. To me that is no different than the child in me who wanted to rush through the “Happy Birthday” song and the presentation of the blanket so as to get to the gifts. Some birthday wish: so much for putting the Christ back in Christmas!

However, don’t miss this part: the child in me was innocent. We ALL are. Let us take this opportunity to reflect, atone, reclaim our original innocence and act from there (“offer the blanket”) so that we might ALL claim the True Gifts under the metaphorical tree.

My Birthday is also celebrated in December: I cannot imagine any greater wish coming true.

Jesus’ Letter to the World

I never intended
to become
your biggest excuse.

Don’t you see?
I didn’t want to be
revered or exalted,
at least not any more so
than you.

I invited you
to emulate me,
join me,
expand upon me even,
not to place me
high upon a pedestal,
on a threshold
you could never

I’m certain I have been
quoted as saying,

“Ye, too, are Gods.
Ye shall do as much
as me and more.”


I guess you could say

That is,
I knew Who I Was.
I discovered
The Secret.

But I came
to share It with you,
not to hide It
from you.

So, stop!

Please stop hiding me
in a 2,000 year old book!

Stop dogmatizing the Message
that came through me,
the very Essence of which
could only put an end
to dogma
and give Life
to the Living,
Breathing Word.

Don’t put me
in the category
of self-righteousness
and judgment.

That is not
where I belong,
nor is it where
I wish to Be.

Are You Saved?

Have you accepted
into your Heart?

I hope so.
That is exactly where
I wish to be
as I would and do
have you
in mine.

It is time,
for Heaven’s sake.

The world
as we know it
is ending.

Praise the Lord!

has come

The Cosmic Christ
shall enter,
infuse our very Beings
with all the good
only a Christ-like heart
can bring.

We are

No longer shall you
blaspheme in My Name,
nor will the peoples
of the Earth
shun you
because of Me—

even if
they Crucify You.

Am I not
still here
to tell you
exactly this?

I AM you.
You ARE me.

Welcome the Christ
into your heart,
just as I did.

The invitation
stood then,
and it still stands

Do this
in Remembrance of Me
of You.

Do this,
and you will come
to your Self,
to Everlasting Life.

go forth and share your Self
with the world,
even as I did.

Don’t let me stop you.

That is NOT
what I came to do.

With Love,

Your Brother in Christ

Copyright © 2012
“Book of Love: Poems To Light Your Way Home” by Humaira~Amy Adams
Available through

Winter’s Poem

In the silence,

I walk.

Darkness envelops me.

Possibility pulls me toward it.

I hold chaos at bay

as I embody the peace within my heart.

They call it the dead of winter.

Maybe it is exactly that.

But I Am Alive in This.

Yes, there is a stirring inside of me,

and no amount of anyone’s convincing

can chase it away.

Awe is my companion

as I trek

through freshly fallen

flakes of glistening white.

Aloneness, my partner,

who holds me close

while we dance

this sweet solitude

into the blissful


The fire of my Being warms me,

ignites me,

burns away

all that is false.

And I continue to walk . . .

Mmmmmmm . . .

Surrendering to the coziness within

and the brisk air that surrounds me,

awakens me

to my Self.

I give birth to Her,

and She is my gift to the world,

all because

I said yes

when Life invited me

for a stroll

in this,


Winter Wonderland.

Copyright © 2013

From the forthcoming “Book of Life: Poems for the Journey” by Humaira~Amy Adams
The Voice of the Prisoner

Oppression wants to speak.

Let us hand her the talking stick, the microphone.

She cannot,

will not,

keep silent one moment more.

Truth wants to be expressed,

and It will find a way.

The lid on this pressure cooker is about to burst.

The floodgates are being forced open.

Justice will prevail

as nothing built on

instability, impurity, brutal lies,

can last.

One word unlocks the prison door.

One sound is the key to freedom, hers and ours.

For, once it has begun,

this truth-telling spree,

this spouting off of things hidden

for a day too long,

cannot be stopped.

Secrets can’t hide

in the Light of Day,

and the Light of Day has dawned.

Cold water in our faces

causes us to hear

the buried words

echoing from death’s disguise.

The oppressors run in fear

because they know

The Sword of Truth

is upon us.

Desperation causes panic

and one last attempt at trickery.

They are suffocated by their own chains.

Oppression has spoken.

I think I hear a

“Glory, Glory, Hallelujah”

in the distance.

Yes, I’m certain of it.

She is marching toward me, toward us.

Her victory song is contagious.

We have triumphed.

Love has won.

The voice of the prisoner has set us free.

Copyright © 2013 from the forthcoming “Book of Life: Poems for the Journey”

Present on a Holy Night

Oh, Christmas Tree,

I am mesmerized by your

dancing, twinkling lights—

here, there and everywhere.

Stardust sprinkles from

The Star

you wear so proudly on your crown.

I see Eternity in your strong and sturdy trunk.

And through your bough,



touches me.

Words scattered

across your branches:





You write me into Silence,



And the calm abiding within me makes Itself known.

She comes to enjoy the tiny trinkets by which you are adorned.

A simple moment as I sip my minted tea.

Fire crackling, snowflakes falling.

Time has stood still.

You evoke in me a sense of timelessness.

I go in and in and in,

trying to find the end,

but it’s not there.

My breathing slows,

and all is well,

in Life and in Death.

You are my Eternity,

my Eternal Tree.

Gifts may be placed

underneath you, around you,

but you

are the true Gift,

The Gift,

present for me,

on this

Holy Night.

Copyright © 2013 from the forthcoming “Book of Life: Poems for the Journey” by Humaira~Amy Adams










Humaira~Amy Adams is a poet/writer who wishes to serve Humanity through her work. Look for her first book of poetry, “Book of Love: Poems To Light Your Way Home,” on

Keep an eye out for her second book of poetry, “Book of Life: Poems for the Journey,” coming in 2017.

Find her:

Facebook: Taveling Light Poetry, Photography and Dance

Twitter: @amy1111adams

Instagram: humaira_amy_adams_poet








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