MIND MOVES: I turned the corner and saw her standing there. She had plenty of company, yet she seemed so very distant and alone.
Slim, elegant, draped in a loose, red evening dress. Her black bra was carelessly visible and tantalising. She was surrounded by expensive gifts, but she seemed indifferent to them.
On the floor beside her was another female form, also seductively dressed, with the added - slightly sinister - touch of a devil's mask on her head. A wall of glass separated me from these sirens, as I stood on the street on a dark winter evening.
It might have been the red light district in Amsterdam, but this was Dublin, and I was standing before the Christmas display in Brown Thomas.
Clearly, times have changed. This was a far cry from the fairy tale pageants that appeared every year in Switzers, as the store then was. Seasonal spectacles of increasing sophistication that brought adults and children into town late in the evening to be sure to have an uninterrupted view.
Blackened windows concealed the careful construction of these window displays in the weeks leading up to Christmas. They instilled a sense of waiting that resonated with the season of Advent. When the mystery was finally unveiled, each exhibit in the Christmas series seemed more colourful than the next. Animals, Ogres and children enacted some scene from a timeless myth, their sense of wonder, innocence and heroism inspiring and re-igniting our own.
I wondered have we come a long way or have we simply lost our way. Gone were Cinderella, Jack and the Beanstalk, Hansel and Gretel; this was Sex in the City.
Symbols in a culture express and mirror what is important to a community at any given time. Five thousand years ago, generations invested an enormous effort to create in Newgrange a symbol of the continual rebirth of the world. At the very moment when life had reached an all-time low, when the sun itself seemed to be dying in the sky, light penetrated darkness and hope was re-kindled.
Newgrange was a tangible expression of a truth that spoke to the concerns of people whose livelihoods depended on the earth being able to renew itself annually. It may also have reflected the psychology of a community that lived in a very close relationship to the reality of loss, death and starting over.
What troubled me most about the figures in the Brown Thomas display was their disconnection and remoteness from one another. The sense of boredom and emptiness they embodied was palpable.
The unhappy truth is that, in a very accurate way, this year's window mirrors the experience of a large segment of our population: rich in material terms, but empty of meaning and any sense of belonging with each other. There is evidence of a deep loneliness in many people that is reflected in these figures behind glass.
Nativity scenes may be passé, but at least the people in them seem to be happy about something. I walked on to Dawson Street and passed a Christian Book store with a crib peopled by Peruvian farmers in ethnic dress. Hearty, well-fed, smiling folk who stood around and celebrated the simple joy of a child being born.
While the material excesses of the BT display ignited envy, lust and avarice for things we want but can't have, this rustic scene expressed the truth that what is most nourishing and joyful can also be accessible to anyone.
This symbol of community didn't deny the harsh realities of hunger, homelessness and struggle, but it affirmed the resilience of the human spirit to stand off suffering and still celebrate.
Chesterton said of the Irish that all our love songs are sad, all our war songs are merry. Our literature, our songs, our capacity to celebrate has been built not so much around successes and achievements, but around who is still standing there with their honour, their dignity and their integrity, in the face of loss, when things have fallen apart.
We have been able to own the story we've emerged from and tell it, no matter how difficult, no matter how fierce that story has been. We have managed to celebrate in the midst of incredible losses and difficulties; we have been able to hold on to a sense of self-esteem that is not contingent on some external measure of success, on having always made it, or on having what we want.
We have within our collective unconscious many stories that reveal our resilience as a people. But when I look at the dominant images of our modern culture, shaped by TV, materialism and perfectionist standards we can never sustain, it does seem like we have lost touch with ourselves.
These richly endowed, but sadly alienated, modern icons in the window display have stolen Christmas. Be sure you don't fall under their spell.
Take the time instead to claim Christmas for yourself, to celebrate the simple joys you do have access to and to nurture friendships that will be so important to your survival in the year ahead.
Dr Tony Bates in principal psychologist at St James's Hospital Dublin.
