Rooted In Truth

We will start out with this,

I am not perfect. Not even close.

But I am waking up. I’m starting to see what is really going on around me.

And I know this much: the way most of us are living is not truly living at all. It’s surviving.

Surviving isn’t fun on any level.

Unless you are choosing it — like going out to camp, living off the land on your own terms, by your own strength. That kind of survival can feel freeing.

But it is never okay when people are forced into it.

It is never okay when survival becomes the only option because someone has lost their home, their stability, or their dignity.

That realization is what led me down a path of questioning — not just about money or systems, but about the stories we are told, the traditions we follow, and how easily truth and folklore can become tangled together.

Why I Started Questioning St. Nicholas

Recently, I decided to look into who St. Nicholas actually was.

I had seen videos circulating on TikTok depicting him in ways that didn’t sit right with me. And while I don’t believe everything I hear on social media, I do believe in researching things for myself instead of blindly accepting what I’m handed.

So one night, I started digging.

What I found wasn’t just surprising — it was disturbing. Not because of one single story, but because of how closely the legends of St. Nicholas seem to mirror stories traditionally attributed to Jesus. The similarities are hard to ignore.

Repeated Parallels That Made Me Pause

According to legend, there is a story of a butcher who murdered three boys, placing their bodies in a barrel to be sold as pork. St. Nicholas is said to have come upon the scene and resurrected them.

In many depictions, the boys are shown standing naked in the barrel at his feet — but with the bodies of fully grown men. That detail alone raises questions.

It made me think of other ancient stories — including accounts connected to Melchizedek, who was said to appear without genealogy and, in some traditions, described in ways that blur age, origin, and form. These themes — resurrection, authority, divine intervention — appear again and again across different narratives.

There are other parallels as well.

One story describes St. Nicholas calming a violent storm at sea by rebuking it — a scene strikingly similar to the Gospel account of Jesus calming the storm for his apostles.

Another legend tells of St. Nicholas instructing people aboard a ship to eat stored wheat during a time of desperation, assuring them none would be lost. When the ship arrived at port, the wheat was weighed and found untouched — despite having fed hundreds. This mirrors the story of Jesus feeding thousands with only a small amount of food.

There is also an account of St. Nicholas being imprisoned and later released after being visited by Jesus and Mary, restoring what had been taken from him. This echoes biblical stories where apostles are freed from prison by divine intervention.

Even the traditions surrounding him are curious. In some regions, Thursday is celebrated as the day of St. Nicholas and the apostles — much like how modern Christianity centers worship around Sunday.

Manna, Myrrh, and the Power of Relics

It is said that relics of St. Nicholas, located in Myra, exude a clear liquid known as manna or myrrh, believed to have miraculous properties. This, again, aligns closely with biblical imagery — manna from heaven, eternal life, divine provision.

Individually, these stories might be brushed aside.

Taken together, they form a pattern.

When Stories Become Systems

St. Nicholas is also famously portrayed as a giver to the poor. One well-known story describes him secretly leaving gold coins in the shoes of three young women whose father was too poor to support them, saving them from being sold into prostitution.

Over time, these stories evolved. They blended. And eventually, they gave us the modern image of Santa Claus — gifts, generosity, tradition.

In Europe, St. Nicholas Day is celebrated earlier in December. In America, however, Christmas became fixed on December 25th — a date widely acknowledged as not the actual birthdate of Jesus.

This raises an uncomfortable question:

How much of what we believe today is historical truth — and how much is folklore layered on top of folklore?

Over time, we’ve created a cocktail of biblical stories, legends, traditions, and commercial interests. The result is modern Christmas: gift-giving, spending, competition, and pressure — all wrapped in the language of faith.

The entire event has become so commercialized that it barely resembles what it is supposed to represent.

And while I do not personally believe Jesus was the messiah, my beliefs are not the point here. The issue is how stories — sacred or not — are taken, reshaped, and used in ways that benefit the powerful while leaving everyone else scrambling to survive.

Why This Matters in Real Life

This kind of distortion doesn’t stay in churches or holidays. It spills into everything.

It reinforces systems where the rich get richer, and everyone else is told to keep buying, keep spending, keep competing — even when it hurts them.

We are told to follow traditions without understanding them. To chase lifestyles we can’t afford. To measure our worth by what we own.

And meanwhile, the balance beams are completely off.

The wealthy have more than they could ever need, while everyone else fights for crumbs.

This is why it matters to wake up. To question what you are following. To understand where things come from and who benefits from them.

Because nothing will ever change if we keep following the same systems blindly — making the same people richer every holiday, every season, every year — just so we can fit in or keep up.

Choosing Living Over Survival

Start taking care of yourselves.

Stop buying into the nonsense being sold to you.

Stop spending thousands on things you don’t need.

Stop trusting industries that profit from keeping you sick, stressed, and dependent.

You don’t need the best of everything to be happy.

Some of the happiest people I know have very little — yet they are content. I am far happier living in a paid-off mobile home than I would be in a beautiful house buried under debt. Debt doesn’t bring peace. It brings pressure.

The more you get, the more you want.

The more you make, the more you spend.

And before you know it, you’re not living — you’re surviving.

I’m not perfect. But I am waking up.

And I know now that surviving is not the same as living — and it is never something we should accept as normal.

A Call to Wake Up — Not to Follow

This isn’t about telling anyone what to believe.

It’s about asking you to pay attention.

Question the stories you were handed.

Question the traditions you follow automatically.

Question who benefits when you are pressured to spend, compete, and comply.

Ask yourself:

• Does this bring life — or just keep me busy surviving?
• Does this build dignity — or dependency?
• Does this serve truth — or profit?

Stop outsourcing your thinking to systems that don’t care whether you thrive, as long as you keep consuming.

You don’t have to reject everything.

But you do have to understand what you are following — and why.

Real change doesn’t start with laws, courts, or institutions.

It starts when ordinary people decide they will no longer live on autopilot.

Wake up.

Choose living over surviving.

Choose truth over comfort.

And stop giving your power away to systems that were never designed to protect you.