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New Zealand Herald, Volume LXV, Issue 20137, 24 December 1928, Page 1 (Supplement)

With the coming of the New car, we think again of that Christmas message, conjuring up high ideals and forming glorious resolutions which ail too soon, like the effulgent spirit of Chrisimas, fade into dimness and become forgotten in the return of clamorous daily life. To those who have a cheering home, good health, and above all, sufficient monetary means, the coming of Christmas is looked forward lo with joyous impatience, for does it not spell the giving and receiving of numerous presents, and hilarious parties, a sumptuous repast on the great day ilself. and a gab. holiday in hotel or seaside bach, a motor lour or boating cruise? But to the poor unfortunate who is without work and without money, the \cry sound of " Merry Christmas "is but a mocking illusion, bringing home with sickening realism the desperate strait in which he finds himself—the more so if he has a wife and children. He sees but the shallowness and empty futility of humanity, and often proclaims his thoughts aloud with bitter and sometimes unjust words. We may proclaim peace on earth, goodwill toward men, until c:ir \oice is hoarse, but a glance at any daily paper will speedily shatter 'lie idealism of those words—we behold petty international jealousies ai:d squablcs, violence, bloodshed, and other crimes : it is not within 'nr power, as mere individauls, to prevent (his, but il is very much VMihin our scope to make some little ' sacrifie on the behalf of our h > fortunate brethren —and many are the ways by which this may be Cone. f In a country such as this, wc have everything in our favour toward lire making of a really happy and memorable Chrisimas—the wide, open spaces of ocean beaches and bush-clad hills, all wondrous and alluring beauty spots; if only the clerk of the weather will deign to smile graciously on this glorious red-letter' day, then will this be a paradise of common and spontaneous gaiety. Being but poor, mere fragments-in ihc vast conclave of humanity, wc soon lose the noble and lofty thoughts that throb within us when Christmas once again rcturrs, but if we have made the world a little brighter for someone less favoured than we be, then surely our frail attempt to interpret the wondrous meaning of that glorious yuletide message will noi: have been in yaiu»

the end lie has to confess "that we cannot live like South Sea Islanders or Hottentots or Stone Age ancestors. But—" we can free ourselves of much of the baggage of bad, wasteful, and sloppy habits of living and thereby give ourselves more biologic freedom and saner social organisation.'' The city-mind cannot be sloughed off in a day, and enjoyment of the simple life demands both leisure and passivity— two things of which there is always a shortage in the modern world. In fact, both ol them arc arts that cannot be practised without ample preparation. Richard Jeffries said that the opportunity for leisure would follow proper organisation— this our earth produces not only a sufficiency and a super-abundarce, but in one year pours a cornucopia of good things lorih, enough to fill us all for many years in succession." His ideal man would be an idle man; buf the ordinary mortal cannot afford to be idle—not because of earth s miserliness, but because ol human muddlerr.ent. But science is gradually—we hope—securing more and more order in production and distribution: and the time may not be far distant when most of us will be able to enjoy ample leisure—if we know how to enjoy it! That "if " is the mainspring of a little book—just published—which is an up-to-the-minute inquiry into the subject of enjoying the world. Its title is " Diogenes, or the future of Leisure," and its author, C. E. M. Joad, says: Civilised man spends rather more than two-thirds of his waking life in obtaining the means to make life possible: he has only one-third left for living. As a consequence he is a shocking bungler in the art of life through sheer lack of practice." Holidays arc surely part of that " one-third left ior living." When summer is triumphant in the land, no lessons in leisure are needed for Ihe enjoyment of a brief respite. Just to bask in the sunshine is enough; sea and river, valley and mountain, all present themselves al their radiant best, a feast for the eyes, the senses, and the soul. What books can enchant like the pages of the days?— what philosophers enlighten like the voices of birds and brooks? When holidays are over, then it may. profit us to discover in print why we have been so happy, and to learn, perhaps, what is most worth while in life and Jiow to make it ours. *-> . . • ' SI