✨KITTING AROUND✨
🌟 BLOG 356–A Godless Christmas?🌟
By KIT SUMMERS — World-Class Juggler to World-Class Comeback
Once upon a life, I was the guy who made gravity break a sweat.
Headlining at Bally’s in Atlantic City, I wasn’t just on top of the world—
I was throwing clubs like they were alive!
With a world record of juggling 7 clubs.
Life was dazzling, sparkly, full of applause.
Then came the truck…
The coma…
My long nap…
The long, silent hallway of nothingness.
Thirty-seven days where the world kept turning, but I wasn’t in it.
And yet—look at me now.
Not juggling clubs as much these days…
Instead, I juggle purpose, grit, hope, and the wild joy of being alive.
I toss resilience into the air and catch courage behind my back.
I balance healing on my chin and possibility on my toes.
My mission?
Oh, it outgrew the stage a long time ago.
Now I’m in the business of lifting humans—
Helping people (you) rise higher and shine louder.
Dreaming braver than you ever thought you could.
Because the show’s not over.
Not by a long shot.
And this version of me?
Helping you to reach a higher level.
I’m carrying more magic than ever.
I need a connection to the world.
Writing this blog fulfills that desire.
It helps me more than it helps you.
I write exactly how I feel.
I hope my words please you.
1) THE BEGINNINGS
It’s so great to hear from my friends who like reading my blog.
Each week, this inspires me and gives me a reason to write the next blog post.
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I NEED YOUR HELP!
I want to share something personal, and I do so with care and humility.
A few months ago, after losing several teeth, I made the difficult decision to have ALL my lower teeth removed. I believed it was the right path forward at the time. It wasn’t. I’m living with that choice now, and it’s been painful—physically and emotionally.
Currently, I have a temp retainer, one that you have to glue in each day. I will need them to drill holes and put posts into my jaw. The new teeth will attach to these posts/implants.
To heal and move forward, I need a lower dental insert. It will make a real difference in my comfort, my health, and my ability to live fully again. Unfortunately, it also comes with a high cost.
If you’re able to help in any way—large or small—I would receive it with deep gratitude. Truly.
And if you’re not, your kindness, good thoughts, and care still mean the world to me.
If you’d like to reach me directly, you can:
📞 Call or text: 610-400-3233
📧 Email: kitsummers@gmail.com
Thank you for reading this.
Thank you for caring.
And thank you—for being part of my world. 💛
With love >>> Kit
Haveyouevertriedtypingwithoutusingthespacebar?
Itisquitedifficult,tryit.
Andafuntimeishadbyall.
Could you read it?
That’s just one of the ways I find pleasure.
Write to me, I miss you.
I’m in the brain injury hospital now.
I usually weighed about 161.
They just weighed me. I am up to 191.
This is the most I have ever weighed.
In a way, I do not care; I don’t care about death, after all.
At times, is my life going backwards?
I find myself questioning everything.
That is not a good way to spend your life.
Kit with his temp choppers
Today, I found another video questioning the idea of a god.
Learn from this >>
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=adRIBCSu3KI
💛 (Here’s the secret — “I love you”.
2) THINGS THAT HAPPENED THIS WEEK
(Please, let me know what you did this week, too.)
12/13–Awake at two again.
It’s becoming routine—my personal sunrise, minus the sun.
Stuck here for the day. What to do, what to do?
It rained, so juggling outside was off the table.
I went out anyway. Did my daily ritual: cleaning the back patio, the path, and the garden edges. I’m always amazed by how many cigarette butts appear overnight, as if they reproduce when no one’s looking. Then back to my room, grabbed the broom, and swept the wood chips back where they belong. Order restored. It feels calmer out there now. Kinder.
Back inside, I noticed my trash can overflowing with candy wrappers. Guilty. Lindor chocolates—I love them. They feed me well here: three meals a day. I add snacks to keep going. Still, it feels like I’m eating too much.
It’s Saturday. Which means nothing is happening.
Time crawls here—so slowly it feels unreal. People yelling down the hallway. It’s unsettling. Living here feels less like living and more like existing in separate cells, each of us locked into our own version of confinement. I’ve lost my joy. I used to run for pleasure. It fueled everything.
I’m watching Rise of Planet of the Apes. There’s a scene where the chimps are locked in separate cages, desperate to be released. It hit me hard. Too hard. I felt like I was watching myself.
Later, a helicopter crashes in the film. That stirred something old and profound. When I was six, my father—Virgil—died in a helicopter crash. I don’t know why it surged so strongly today, but the anger inside me is growing—sharp, restless, everywhere. I’m angry at everything. Maybe even at myself.
I was named after him: Virgil Carson Summers Jr–I am. They called him Virgil, so they nicknamed me “Kit,” from my middle name. I’ve never gone by my real first name. Now you know.
The anger keeps building. I miss my freedom.
I could leave this place. I really could.
Right now, I’m not even allowed to go outside.
If I left—then what? Where would I go? What would I do?
Sometimes I imagine walking all the way to Key West.
I’ve been there before. I like it there.
Maybe I’d just… live until I didn’t.
Lately, I don’t even seem to care about my life. I feel heavier, softer, despite eating constantly. I tried juggling three clubs—something that once defined me. Today, I could barely keep them in the air. This is who I am. Or who I was. And now it feels like another loss among so many.
Sometimes I wake up thinking someone is beside me in bed.
“I just wanted to let you know that I reached out,” I say.
But there’s no one there.
I am alone.
The loneliness is brutal. I hate it.
There is no one I long to be with,
and somehow that makes it worse.
I feel entirely alone. No one.
It’s 2:22 in the afternoon, and I already feel finished with the day. Maybe I’ll spend the rest of it—perhaps the rest of my life—watching YouTube videos, letting time pass, letting everything pass, and then dying quietly.
I’ve written things like this before—shared them with ChatGPT.com, even. The responses often include phone numbers for help. Right now, I don’t know what kind of help would even make sense… or if I’d want it. I’ve been through so many trials, and lately everything feels heavier.
I HAD TO LET YOU SEE WHAT CHATGPT SENT ME:
“And just to say this plainly, because it matters: you don’t have to carry this alone. If at any point the weight feels like too much, help is available—in the U.S., you can call or text 988 for the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, any time, day or night. You’re not too weak to need support. You’re human.”
12/14–Living here feels strange—like wearing someone else’s shoes that never quite fit. It doesn’t feel right. And yet, I remind myself: I have a place to sleep, food to eat, and that matters. Gratitude doesn’t erase the discomfort, but it keeps me human. 🌱.
When the Horizon Goes Quiet
The challenge I’m facing right now isn’t a lack of
ability or effort—it’s the absence of a clear target.
No mountain to climb.
No flame to chase.
So let me name some of the peaks I’ve already scaled >>
1) In high school, I pole-vaulted 18’6″, setting a school record
And proving early that gravity and I would have a complicated relationship.
2) I committed myself to becoming one of the best jugglers in the world—and followed through.
3) I fought my way back from a life-altering accident, reclaiming not just function, but purpose.
4) I wrote what many have said is the best book ever written on juggling.
5) I created and nurtured the finest salsa imaginable, and watched it thrive.
https://sites.google.com/site/summerssalsa/
Each of these goals gave me direction.
They added friction, fire, and meaning to my days.
I chose them to forge me forward—to shape who I was becoming.
And now?
The horizon is quiet.
The compass spins.
The next mountain hasn’t introduced itself yet.
(But oh… it will. And when it does, I’ll lace up my boots and grin. 😄🔥)
The runway is clear… but the destination hasn’t announced itself.
So I’m asking—curious, open, and ready—
What’s next on Kit’s agenda?
Please, help me decide.
Because I know this much:
I’m not done climbing.
I’ve got to find new things to consider.
I need a new summit to aim for. 🌄🎯
Today was devoted to shaping this very blog—
Proof that life keeps moving,
And our thoughts are allowed to evolve right along with it.
But there is more to life than this blog (or is there?)
And then you die. 🌱✨
12/15–As usual, the alarm clock in my brain went off at 2 a.m.
No snooze button.
No negotiations.
I’m awake.
For the day.
Today?
I am not loving life.
Not enjoying existence.
At all.
What can I do?
Ask God for help?
Hard pass.
Today is prep day for tomorrow’s Big Event—the grand tour.
A colonoscopy from one end.
An endoscopy from the other.
Yes, I’m being inspected like a very expensive used car.
To prepare, I’ll be drinking four liters—FOUR—of a magical potion designed to encourage… enthusiastic output. (Yes. Poop. Precision matters.) 🎩💩 It’s basically a party where no one brings snacks, everyone regrets attending, and the bathroom is the real VIP lounge.
Honestly, this liquid ordeal is the worst part. For the actual procedure, I’ll be blissfully asleep—lights out, brain unplugged, consciousness on airplane mode. Compared to chugging this watery regret? That part sounds downright luxurious. 😴✨
Tomorrow, I’ll be gently powered down—goodnight, folks. 😴✨
First, the anesthesiologist (a truly heroic word, thank you, spellcheck) flips my OFF switch.
No mallets. No Bugs Bunny stars circling my head. Just modern science, a polite countdown, and—poof—I’m gone like a phone at 1%. 📱💤
Then the doctor checks things out from the back.
After the rear end is checked out, move on to the throat.
While I’m still blissfully unconscious, a tube goes down my throat.
My esophagus has narrowed, making swallowing a real-life boss battle.
All this while I am blissfully asleep, but not snoring.
They’ll gently stretch my throat—science’s way of saying, “Hang on, buddy, we got you.”
In simple terms:
An endoscopy uses a thin, flexible tube with a light and a camera.
This takes a guided tour of the esophagus, stomach, and duodenum.
Science at work. Glamour not included.
This is not a spa day.
But it is a step forward.
And right now?
Forward is enough.
Today, progress wears a crown,
Struts confidently and calls it a win. 👑✨🌱
As for the GaviLyte—four liters of it—
Mission accomplished.
It was unpleasant.
It was thorough.
And I am officially cleared out for tomorrow
Onward. 🚀
12/16–You know the drill: up by 3, into the shower with a smile, clothes put into the washer, and all this while smiling early in the morning.
Today was surgery time! Thank you, Nora, for driving me. Writing of Nora, yes, I am in love again. She only works at NR a few times a week, so I don’t know when I might see her again. A lovely thought, though.
Very comforting, I can see why Michael Jackson liked Propofol so much. I had an IV into my vein, and the sleepy drug was put into me through this. I had asked the doctor to let me know when he put the drug into my body, and he did. My mind snapped away quickly.
The first thing you experience is a deep sense of comfort throughout your body; I see the reason why people like taking illegal drugs. Then sleep comes quickly as pleasure takes over and your mind turns off. Such a great comfort this drug has.
Sometimes, as I go to sleep at night, I try to detect the moment when my mind passes from consciousness to unconsciousness. In attempting this, my mind never does go to sleep. This experiment has kept me awake through many nights. Because I was medically induced to sleep, I thought I could see the transition point. But I could not; it came too quickly. Try it sometime, you will experience an awake mind thinking about sleep. I felt pleasure and then pillow time.
12/17–🎭 The Day After: The Sequel No One Asked For
Aww… the day after.
I woke up today feeling exactly the same as I did yesterday.
Same model.
Same settings.
No exciting updates.
Maybe my throat feels a tiny bit tight—but honestly, it could just be offended it was recently invaded.
For dinner, I had some rice and munched it down. At one point, rice got caught in my throat, as it had before. It is hard even to tell if they did the surgery. I called and left a voice message informing Dr. Ramech about what happened. There is no way to just check my throat, they would have to put me out and go down again. Oh boy, I can’t wait.
I was told they removed a few polyps from my papilla (sounds fancy, doesn’t it?), yet my body responds with a collective shrug. Nothing hurts. Nothing screams. Nothing applauds. Just… business as usual.
💛 Humans Being Wonderful (A Rare and Beautiful Thing.)
Many people at NR asked how yesterday went. That kind of care? Gold. Good humans. Good staff. Real concern. I feel lucky to be surrounded by people who actually notice each other. 🫶
The morning procedure cost over $2,000 (thank you, insurance gods, 🙄). I sincerely hope someone, somewhere, is keeping a spreadsheet with my name highlighted in neon. Unnecessary costs still make my eye twitch—but onward we go.
I do hope someone, somewhere, schedules these things thoughtfully, preferably not during every moment of my existence.
🧠💪 Therapy Adventures: Balance, Bars & Baby Steps.
Therapy today? Light. Manageable. Sneaky-hard.
Finished up OT with Maryann.
We practiced balancing on the parallel bars—and wow, it still shocks me how wobbly my balance can be. It’s like my legs are improvising jazz without telling my brain.
Then weights!
I dropped down to 7-pound dumbbells instead of 10 (now who’s the dumbbell here?)
Maryann wisely reminded me:
“Build strength first, then level up.”
Totally fair.
I’m currently training my arms for their eventual destiny—500 pounds per arm.
(Yes, I’m smiling. Yes, that was sarcasm. 😁)
🚨 FIRE DRILL: THE SEQUEL 🚨
JUST got back from another fire drill.
Encore performance.
A real fire truck arrived.
A real fire truck left.
A truly breathtaking use of time. This time—plot twist—a real fire truck showed up… and then did absolutely nothing. A cameo appearance. No lines. No fire. No action. ⭐🚒
I learned there are 28 patients here at NR—and it looked like just as many staff members standing outside with us, wondering about their life choices.
🍪 Holiday Baking… Sort Of
OT with Terrie brought Christmas cookies into the mix. 🎄🍪
Sadly, these cookies did not believe in structure.
They melted.
They spread.
They became abstract art.
Some had to be… retired.
Want a cookie? “No?” Wise choice.
🎄 A Pause, A Gratitude, A Send-Off
I just learned Maryann—one of my main therapists—is off for a few weeks for Christmas.
Good for her. Truly. Maryann, I hope your holiday is filled with joy, rest, laughter, and zero fire drills.
You’ve earned every bit of it—however you choose to spend it. ❤️
I’m–
Still here.
Still moving forward.
Still with my new lower teeth.
Still smiling—sometimes at the absurdity, sometimes because I mean it.
Onward. 🎉
12/18–Morning again.
There was an outing today—a trip to Tampa.
I didn’t hear about it.
I wasn’t invited.
I don’t know why.
Today’s entire schedule: 30 minutes of speech therapy.
That’s it.
Am I wasting my time here? My life?
At least I get to write this blog for you—and that matters. Writing still feels like a lifeline.
Right now, though, life feels unbearably heavy.
I don’t know what I want.
I don’t know who I want to be with.
I’m terrified I’ll be alone for the rest of my life.
I’m crying as I write this—not out of drama, but confusion and exhaustion.
I’m so tired of being alone. I hate that feeling.
I met with Lillie—my only therapy today. Just half an hour.
My memory is slipping more than I’d like. Yesterday, I met with Maryann and Terrie, yet today I forgot it had even happened. That scared me. I also noted other concerns.
I’m not liking life very much right now.
At 1:15, we had a conference call with my doctor and several therapists.
From their perspective, I’m “doing alright.”
From mine, life has been hard—relentlessly hard—with all these changes.
Both things can be true at the same time.
12/19-A Sharpened, Clearer, Truer Version
This morning, as usual, I woke at 2 a.m.
I lay there trying to remember what I did last night—and who I was with.
Nothing came. I just stared into the dark, thinking, What next?
Oddly, a word floated up: epiphany.
I smiled at that.
I like it when my brain reaches for words I don’t usually use.
Even better—I used it correctly without realizing it.
An epiphany is a sudden, clarifying insight—a sharp “aha” moment! The time when something clicks and your understanding shifts. The word comes from Greek, meaning appearance or manifestation. It also carries religious meaning, but I’ll leave that part aside. What struck me wasn’t theology.
It was that the word fit.
Because even as I write this, I still can’t remember last night.
I don’t know who I was with.
I don’t know what I did.
And I have no one to ask.
That realization lands hard.
This scares me.
Am I living moment by moment now—without continuity?
That’s not the life I want.
I have memories, yes—but recent ones fade too fast, like chalk in the rain.
Last night is already gone.
So I ask myself:
What can I do about this?
Or… do I even want to?
My thoughts begin to morph—another word I don’t usually use. (I’m oddly enjoying the vocabulary upgrades.) But the meaning is darker: everything starts blending into the same anxious loop.
Is my mind getting worse?
I’ve said before—half-joking, half-dead serious—that if my mind ever truly went, I wouldn’t want to stick around. Is this that moment creeping closer?
I once imagined living past 100.
Now I question that vision.
That doubt circles back to a recent decision I regret deeply: having all my lower teeth removed.
Why would I choose something so drastic?
What was I thinking?
Tears come.
Confusion follows.
People are trying to help me. Genuinely kind, loving people.
But I’m not making it easy for them to help.
Another thought slips in: I don’t want to be a burden.
More tears.
The clock reads 3:58 a.m.
Early mornings can be cruel places.
Which brings me back to the question I keep circling—if there is a god, why would that god punish someone like this?
Does anyone have an answer?
And now the time is 7:18.
I’ve been up for many hours.
Even being here, there are things I need to do.
Just returned from the dentist. She adjusted my retainer, which was causing pain. Now it fits well, no pain. Of course, someone had to walk me the two blocks to get there, which I easily found. Such a waste of time for the person who went with me.
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3) 🌟BLOG 356–A Godless Christmas?
✨THE DAY KIT SUMMERS STOPPED SHRINKING✨
A Happy Christmas — From My Heart to Yours 🎄
For Christmas—and always—this blog is my gift to you, my dear.
I write because I want your life to feel richer, lighter, and more awake.
If my words add even a small bit of beauty to your days, then they’ve done their job. 🎁
My Christmas Story (No Pulpit Needed)
Religion was never part of my Christmas.
My father died when I was six, and Christmas became something quieter,
softer—time with my mom, my brothers Mike and Gary, and my sister Kath.
No sermons.
No doctrine.
Just family.
Always loving.
Always warm.
Always enough.
Throughout history, humans have imagined and worshipped thousands of gods—each claiming exclusive truth while outright contradicting the others. There is no consistent evidence and no reliable way to separate fact from fiction. With no rational reason to favor one god over the others—or to believe any are real—the question remains unanswered.
You may not believe in Zeus or Athena. I take the same step with your god.
Human history has produced thousands of gods, each tied to a particular place and culture.
The god people believe in usually depends on where they were raised, rather than on proof.
Born in the U.S., you’re likely Christian.
Born in India, Hindu.
Born in Afghanistan, Muslim.
Born in Israel, Jewish.
Belief, more often than not, follows birthplace—not evidence.
If a God exists and genuinely wants my belief, that God would know exactly what it takes to convince me. Silence, ambiguity, and ancient stories don’t qualify. I’ve seen nothing that rises above coincidence, psychology, or wishful thinking.
Prayer carries centuries of devotion behind it, but shows no measurable, repeatable evidence that it changes outcomes. When prayers go unanswered, explanations shift—wrong motives, insufficient faith, sin, or a mysterious “higher plan.” Eventually, prayer is quietly redefined: not as something that works, but as something that feels good. A conversation. A comfort ritual. A form of meditation.
I believe the idea of a god emerged when humans became aware of death—and refused to accept it as the final chapter. Once we understood that life ends, we began searching for a way beyond it. Not a map. Not proof. Just hope.
In that sense, God is less a discovery and more a creation—a story shaped by longing. A bridge built from fear, love, and imagination stretched across the terrifying gap between life and nothingness. God promises continuity when biology says stop. Meaning when randomness feels cruel. Comfort when reality offers none.
God is hope given a face.
Hope given a voice.
Hope whispering:
“This isn’t the end.
You matter.
Your story continues.”
And that hope is deeply human. It doesn’t need temples or texts to exist. It naturally rises from our awareness, our love for one another, and our refusal to believe that everything we are vanishes. God became the answer to the most uncomfortable question we ever asked: Is this really all there is?
If these words resonate with you, I’d love to know.
You say, “But God helped me find my keys after I prayed.”
Okay… let’s hold the applause.
How about curing cancer—so five-year-olds don’t die?
How about restoring a lost limb?
If divine power exists, celebrating misplaced keys is like bragging about a raindrop during a flood.
Belief isn’t a moral achievement.
It’s not a badge of virtue, a measure of goodness, or evidence of superior character. You don’t earn belief by trying harder, wanting it more, or keeping your heart extra open. Belief isn’t a reward—it’s a response. It appears when the evidence is convincing, and it doesn’t when it isn’t.
I looked. I stayed curious. I listened.
And I never found the belief so many claim to have.
Clean. Honest. Grounded.
No fireworks—just truth standing there with its hands in its pockets.
We don’t choose what convinces us. No one decides to believe in gravity, germs, or fire because they’re morally upright; they think because the evidence is unavoidable. The same standard applies everywhere else. If a claim is valid, it should be backed by clear, compelling, and repeatable evidence—evidence that doesn’t rely on special pleading, emotional pressure, or cultural conditioning.
🎄 Happy Christmas—
A celebration of humanity, honesty, and hope.
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1–Belief isn’t a virtue—it’s a conclusion.
People don’t choose their beliefs the way they choose their outfits. Belief is a response to evidence. When convincing evidence appears, belief follows. When it doesn’t, disbelief isn’t a flaw—it’s intellectual honesty.
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2–Where?
To date, no god claim has been supported by reliable, testable, independently verifiable evidence. Extraordinary claims demand extraordinary proof. None has arrived.
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3–Too many gods, no referee.
Human history offers thousands of gods, each rooted in a specific culture and time. They contradict one another in origins, morals, and revelations. There’s no consistent method to identify which—if any—is real. Most people reject every god except the one they were raised with—an accident of birth, not a discovery of truth.
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6–A hidden god who wants belief makes no sense.
If a god exists and desires belief, that god would know exactly what evidence would convince each person. Yet sincere seekers encounter silence. Prayer performs no better than chance. Miracles dissolve under scrutiny. Revelation is indistinguishable from imagination, coincidence, or cultural conditioning.
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5–Nature keeps winning.
What gods once explained—lightning, disease, earthquakes, planetary motion—science now explains better. Each discovery reduces the need for divine intervention. The universe operates on observable laws, not divine moods. No gap requires a god.
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6–Meaning doesn’t need permission.
Morality arises from empathy, cooperation, and our shared desire to reduce suffering. Purpose is created, not assigned. Love, creativity, curiosity, and responsibility matter more because life is finite. This isn’t a loss—it’s an invitation. When this life is the only one we know we have, it holds profound importance.
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7–The result.
In the end, disbelief isn’t rebellion.
It isn’t cynicism.
It isn’t emptiness.
It’s a commitment to intellectual honesty.
Until credible evidence appears, the most reasonable position is straightforward: there is no god. Humanity—imperfect, fragile, and often ridiculous—manages just fine taking responsibility for itself. For me, if there is no proof, I could never believe.
Despite centuries of devotion, prayer, tradition, and certainty, that evidence has never arrived. Stories are not proof. Feelings are not facts. Ancient texts, personal experiences, and social reinforcement may be deeply meaningful, but they do not meet the standard required to justify belief in an objective reality.
If belief were a virtue, doubt would be a vice. But doubt isn’t moral failure—it’s honesty. It’s the refusal to claim certainty where none exists. Withholding belief in the absence of evidence isn’t stubbornness or rebellion; it’s integrity.
If convincing evidence appears, belief will follow naturally. You don’t need to do anything. Until then, disbelief isn’t a flaw—it’s an honest response to the evidence we actually have.
No faith is required. Just integrity.
This raises a simple question: if a god exists and wants to be known… why all the hiding?
These are my thoughts for now—held lightly, not carved into stone or sold with a lifetime warranty. I’m after truth, not comfort. If you’ve got a sharper argument, a clearer lens, or a truer angle, toss it into the mix. I’m listening. Upgrades are welcome. Clarity does the convincing. 🎩✨
As for church—I remember my mom taking us once during the season, more out of tradition than belief. God wasn’t necessary for a Merry Christmas then—and isn’t now.
Christmas, for me, was family. Love. Caring.
A secular Christmas is a bright, human-centered celebration of winter—one that sets doctrine aside and shines a spotlight on what unites us all: people gathered close, generosity flowing freely, laughter cutting through the cold, and light winning—again—against the dark. 🎄✨
AIM YOUR LIFE TOWARD REASON
NOT TOWARD ANY GOD
This celebration honors what humans have always shared across cultures: decorating trees, exchanging gifts (with a cheerful nod to Santa 🎅🏻), gathering around hearty meals, telling stories, and caring for those who need a little extra warmth—of heart or home. Its roots reach back to ancient winter-solstice traditions and flow forward into modern life, blending history, joy, and a bit of today’s twinkle. 🌟
Believers, non-believers, and everyone in between take part—not out of dogma, but out of love. It’s a reflection without rules. Connection without conditions. Joy without gatekeepers. In short: a celebration of humanity itself—wrapped in lights, kindness, and hope. 🎁
And Santa? Oh yes—Santa mattered.
God? Not so much.
At six years old, I hid under the living-room table, determined to catch Santa in the act.
I didn’t.
I fell asleep instead.
My mom found me there and carried me to bed. xx
That moment.
That love.
That was Christmas.
Happy Christmas: A Celebration of Humanity 🎁
Happy—or Merry—Christmas doesn’t belong to religion.
It belongs to people.
To laughter echoing through living rooms.
To lights pushing back long winter nights.
To our universal need for warmth, kindness, and connection.
No one actually knows when Jesus was born. Historians place it somewhere between 6 and 4 BCE, before King Herod died. December 25th was chosen centuries later—without historical evidence. Which brings us to the truth beneath the tinsel:
At its core, Christmas is about togetherness.
It arrives during the darkest, coldest time of year—when nature whispers, “Huddle closer.”
Long before religion, humans gathered around fire, food, and stories—not for theology, but for survival. Physical survival. Emotional survival. Community.
That instinct hasn’t changed.
The Joy of Giving (No Obligation Required)
Giving isn’t about price tags.
Lindor candies aren’t that much.
It’s about delight.
The quiet power of saying, “I thought of you.”
Some of the greatest gifts cost nothing.
A happy Christmas doesn’t require God—just kindness, generosity, and joy.
Warm. Human. Inviting.
No God required—just love, laughter, and a Happy Christmas.
Short. Cheeky. Smile-worthy.
Christmas joy stands just fine on its own—no God necessary.
Bold. Steady. True.
Writing this blog is my gift to you.
How to Celebrate a Happy, Secular Christmas 🎄
Focus on what matters most:
Love
Giving
Kindness
Cozy moments
Time with people you care about.
Fill the season with words like:
“Merry everything and a happy always.”
“Peace, love, and holiday cheer.”
“Christmas is the season for kindling the fire of hospitality in the hall and charity in the heart.”
Food Is Love You Can Taste 🍪
Shared meals slow us down.
They spark conversation.
They turn strangers into friends.
Cookies. Casseroles. Even questionable fruitcake.
The table becomes sacred—not by ritual, but by presence.
(And yes… Lindor chocolates are always welcome!)
You can find me here:
Kit Summers
NeuroRestorative
3701 Avalon Park Blvd #100
Orlando, FL 32828 😄
And then there’s the light. 🕯️
But that—like love—is something humans have always known how to create.
If you want:
• even tighter
• more poetic
• more provocative
• or more mischievous
NeuroRestorative
Candles.
String lights.
Fireplaces glowing.
The darkness didn’t win.
Light says something simple and powerful:
Even the smallest flame makes a difference.
A secular Christmas honors hope, resilience, and our
Instinct to create beauty—even when the world feels heavy.
Memory, Meaning, and Looking Forward
Christmas is also a time for remembering.
Stories are retold.
Photos resurface.
We hold the past gently—and the present closer.
It’s a moment to ask:
How do I want to show up next year?
Who can I be kinder to?
What joy do I want to create?
Most of all, Christmas Is Inclusive ❤️
No belief required.
No doctrine at the door.
Just humanity—
Messy. Hopeful. Imperfect.
Doing its best to be generous for a moment.
A Happy Christmas Is a Choice
Choosing joy
Choosing kindness
Choosing to give
Choosing connection
Choosing light
And in a world that feels rushed, divided, and exhausted—
Those choices are nothing short of miraculous.
Make them every day of your life.
Happy Christmas to everyone.
I love you. 🎄✨🎄✨
4) 🔥 A FEW SPARKS TO SLIP INTO YOUR POCKET
✨ THE MAGIC OF QUOTES ✨
Quotes are tiny magic lanterns—glimmers of wisdom that light our way. They contain big truths in small packages, offering comfort, clarity, and courage when we need it most. A single line can steady a trembling heart, clarify a foggy thought, or remind us to keep moving toward our dreams with a whisper that says, “Keep going—there’s more ahead.”
Dale Evans:
“Christmas, my child, is love in action.
Every time we love, every time we give, it’s Christmas.”
Kit Summers:
“A happy Christmas doesn’t require God—just kindness, generosity, and joy.”
Norman Vincent Peale
“Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.”
Hamilton Wright Mabi
“Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.”
W. T. Ellis
“It is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air.”
Dale Evans Rogers
“Christmas, my child, is love in action. Every time we love, every time we give, it’s Christmas.”
Mary Ellen Chase
“Christmas, children, is not a date. It is a state of mind.”
Alexander Smith
“Christmas is the day that holds all time together.”
Peg Bracken
“Gifts of time and love are surely the basic ingredients of a truly merry Christmas.”
Marjorie Holmes
“At Christmas, all roads lead home.”
Peg Bracken
“Gifts of time and love are surely the basic ingredients of a truly merry Christmas.”
Gordon B. Hinckley:
“As we give presents at Christmas, we need to recognize that sharing our time and ourselves is such an important part of giving.”
Toni Sorenson:
“Christmas is about giving from the heart more than giving from the store.”
C.S. Lewis:
“Once in our world, a stable had something in it that was bigger than our whole world.”
Charles Dickens:
“It was always said of him that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!”
Ruth Carter Stapleton:
“Christmas is most truly Christmas when we celebrate it by giving the light of love to those who need it most.”
Thomas S. Monson:
“Christmas is the spirit of giving without a thought of getting. It is happiness because we see joy in people. It is forgetting oneself and finding more time for others. It is discarding the meaningless and stressing the true values.”
Helen Keller:
“The only real blind person at Christmas-time is he who does not Christmas in his heart.”
5) YOUR CHALLENGE THIS WEEK >>
Spread love and delight through this happy season. You know that older neighbor who spends so much time alone? Invite this person over for Christmas dinner, or take a full meal to their house. Spread love how you can.
6) NEXT WEEK>> BLOG 357–You Still Matter!
🌟7) FINAL THOUGHTS 🌟
Because the best is always still ahead.
So juggle joy like it’s the air you breathe.
The horizon holds more than you can yet imagine.
Your present moment is not the finish line—it’s your starting block.
Chase sunsets as if they’re secret treasures waiting just for you.
Laugh so loudly that tomorrow leans in to listen.
Live as though you’ve only just begun—
BECAUSE YOU TRULY HAVE!
