Today (it's just turned Sunday in Denmark where this all started) is the first day of Jul.
Freyr shall ride over the Earth on the back of his shining boar, bringing light and love back the world. Baldur will also be reborn during this festival.
The darkest night, the brightest hope. The Wild Hunt in it's greatest splendor, the dead rome the earth imparting their wisdom and advice upon their ancestors.
Odin charges across the sky mounted on Sleipnir, and children leave him hay and sugar in their boots, and he shall, in return, leave them a gift.
In latter nights, Freyr became the Star of Bethlehem, Baldur became Jesus, the Wild Hunt moved to the end of October, Odin on his horse became this other bearded guy with reindeer, and boots became stockings.
But nevertheless, it's the one time of year all major religions merge into one. The true meaning of Jul, of Yuletide, of Christmas is deep down, despite our widely differing deeply held personal beliefs, once history has forgotten enough to remove the silly little details we all bicker about, actually, deep down, on the fundamental parts, we all agree.
