This Christmas

Today is Christmas.

The world says this day should glow. It should be full of laughter and warmth and carefully curated joy. It should look a certain way. Feel a certain way. Mean something tidy and beautiful.

But the truth is quieter, and often heavier.

For many of us, Christmas doesn’t arrive gently. It comes carrying memory. Old wounds. Empty chairs. Family dynamics that tighten the chest before the door even opens. The weight of trying to be present when the nervous system is already overwhelmed.

If today feels like too much, you are not imagining it.

If your body feels tired before the day has even begun, there is a reason.

If joy feels distant or complicated, you are not failing.

The crow understands this season.

It knows how to watch from the edges.

How to conserve energy.

How to survive without apology.

And the flame—

The flame doesn’t demand brilliance today.

It doesn’t ask you to burn bright or light up the room.

It only asks that you protect the ember.

Christmas does not require performance.

You do not owe anyone cheer, gratitude, forgiveness, or healing today.

You do not have to gather, explain, revisit, or reopen old doors.

You do not have to make meaning out of pain just because the calendar says it’s a holy day.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is choose softness in a world that expects spectacle.

So let today be what it is.

Let it be quiet if it needs to be quiet.

Let it be messy if it needs to be messy.

Let it be heavy without trying to turn it into something else.

If you find a moment of warmth, receive it without pressure to make it last.

If you need to step away, step away without guilt.

If all you can manage is breathing, resting, and getting through the hours—know that this, too, is enough.

Today is Christmas.

And Crow and Flame stands with the tired, the healing, the grieving, and the quietly surviving.

May your boundaries hold.

May your nervous system find small moments of ease.

May your ember remain safe.

You are not doing this day wrong.

You are doing the best you can with what you’re carrying.

And that is worthy.