A story inspired by Gurdjieff’s Christmas tree.
The old man had asked to decorate the Christmas tree by himself that year. A huge fir-tree from some forest up north. Two days before, he had shut himself up in the big drawing-room with a ladder and his workman’s tools, scissors, glue, extension wires, lights, and coloured papers, and would let no one in. He hardly went out for two whole days, and that when he was sure everyone was asleep. On Christmas Eve the door finally opened for the big celebration.
Up where the big chandelier was there now hung the roots of the tree, and a series of fairy lights ran down twining around the branches of the tree to the floor. Shiny red balls hung from the branches. From the top of the tree which almost touched the ground hung a brightly lit star. Stars of various shapes and sizes were scattered on the carpet around the tree. All his tools and ladders neatly put away in a corner, the old man sat by his favourite instrument with half a naughty smile.
The community still in awe, gaping at the sight, he started to play. It was a song that spoke of a Night when stars fall upon the earth and become children who are visited by wise men in their dreams, and angels stand in awe – just like humans do, when they see things turned upside down.
Thank you, dear Elena, for this nice sharing.
More about Gurdjieff’s Christmas Tree here.