Christmas stories.

Me became bird? 🐦

On that serene winter day atop the snow-kissed mountain, my heart swelled with an earnest desire to connect, not just with nature, but with something greater than myself. The birds, delicate creatures in their own right, seemed elusive to my attempts at communion.

Undeterred, I yearned to convey a message, a plea to the feathered friends that circled above. "Little birds," I whispered to the silent expanse, "I bring not demands but a simple offering. In this season of scarcity, let me share my warmth and sustenance with you. I wish only to sit among you, to hear your songs and witness your playful dances. Let us be friends."

Yet, my appeal echoed in solitude. The birds remained distant, their understanding eluding my words. Faced with this disconnect, a realization stirred within me—an epiphany that resonated deep in the chambers of my soul.

Gazing at my own form, I spoke to myself with an intimacy that transcended the mountain's silence. "This body of mine is too vast, too imposing. If only I could shrink, become as small and unassuming as a bird. To transform not only in appearance but in essence. In that diminutive form, I could approach them without causing fear. I could share the sincerity of my heart, and together, we could brave the winter on Mount Lu-shan."

In that quiet moment of self-reflection, the poignant truth unfolded. Christmas, I realized, echoed this very sentiment. The grandeur of the divine choosing the humble path of humanity. A profound act of love, a divine embrace in the form of a little child. The revelation brought tears to my eyes, for in that winter solitude, I understood that the real meaning of Christmas was a story of immense love—a love that chose to be small, vulnerable, and intimately intertwined with the fabric of our existence.