Among the many pyrotechnic traditions in Colombia to celebrate the new year is the burning of effigies in the night of December 31st.  These assemblages of straw, paper, old clothes and other recycled materials are dolled up to resemble personalities, whose contributions to the outgoing year were less than applaudable.  Corrupt politicians, barbaric druglords, rotten revolucionaries, all find themselves parodied and put to flame in the attempt to say good riddance to the last twelve months.

One of the more popular dummies this past New Year's Eve was Steve Harvey, the comedian from the United States who fumbled the honor of announcing the winner of Miss Universe 2015.  Suddenly struck by a rare and ephemeral strain of severe dyslexia, the unhappy host, in front of international media, pronounced "Miss Colombia" when the real letters on the official cue-card read "Miss Philippines". 

In Colombia there errupted instant, national euphoria.  For the third time in history a stunning daughter of the patria had been judged the most beautiful specimen of the human species currently in existence.  To crown it all, it was Miss Colombia coronating Miss Colombia, since Miss Universe 2014, one señorita Paulina Vega, took the diadem from her own golden Colombian brow and placed on that of señorita Ariadna Gutiérrez. 

The triumph was, however, short lived.  Mr. Harvey, promptly recovered from the strange, cerebral attack, two minutes later openly recognized, again for all the world to watch on television, his unfortunate blunder and declared the real winner the-just-moments-before runner-up.  The tables hadn't simply turned, they were toppling down the stairs.

Euphoria in a flash exploded into national fury.  Of course, every heart in the country went out to the dishonored and deceived sister suffering global shame on a Las Vegas stage.  But the outrage was as much historical as it was personal.  US foreign intervention into the lives of Colombians goes back a few, more than irritating centuries.  The territory now known as Panama, for one blatant example, once belonged to Colombia, which wasn't so keen on cutting out a canal to serve US interests.  So the northern America fomented a succesionist movement in the southern, which succeeded in separating Panama from its homeland.  The snatching away of the crown of señorita Gutiérrez was just another instance of ugly, yankee thievery.

Thus the face of Mr. Harvey up in smoke across the land on December 31, 2015.  Any chance to burn a gringo comes as quite welcome.  But all the hurt and hate aside, I, for one, have taken a most helpful spiritual lesson from the great debacle.  While the entire world, above all Colombia, focused on the eternal humilliation of the disgraced beauty, it seems to me equally valid and more virtuous to keep an eye on her temporary glory. 

For a blissful little while, señorita Gutiérrez was, as Miss Universe, on top of the world.  Why should any subsequent event destroy the original happiness experienced?  If one truly lived in the present  moment, which every spiritual master recommends, then the gratitude for winning should not succumb to the sadness of losing.  Rather than cry over the injustice of the blunder, why not celebrate the fact that for two brilliant minutes this beautiful young woman lived out her dreams.

So it is, after all, with all beauty; it is fleeting.  The title "Miss Universe" only sticks a single  year.  And every past winner ends up with the same wrinkles and flab as the losers. Really, what's the difference between a two minute victory and a twelve month one?  The key is to seize the second, give thanks and enjoy.

The foregoing leads me to a resolution I hope to keep for 2016 and years beyond.  I resolve to live out the joy of Miss Universe 2015 as it comes, regardless of  what should happen after.  And should I have to give up the crown, I hope not to let that sour my preceding pleasure.  Gratitude survives only in the present.  If it falls prey to retroactive adjustments it quickly becomes endangered with extinction.

Perspective, we all well know, is everything.  Is the glass half full or half empty?  Is señorita Gutiérrez a two minute Miss Universe or a twenty-something year old Miss Mistake? Do I celebrate what's been given me, or bemoan with bilious bitterness what's been taken away?

Consequently, let my chant now be this: "Long live the beauty queen! Even if her reign last but a charming wink."  Long live my gratitude for every crazy, changeable moment, for the crown is only to wear, not to keep.