Sunday, December 18, 2016

Christmas is One Week from Today



How can a whole year have passed so quickly?  A turbulent, wind-tossed year fraught with angst and calm, of love and hate, of fun and pain, of joy and sadness, and for some, total devastation---as if in the blink of an eye, it has passed like a creek flowing under a bridge.  Sometimes raging as though from a deluge in a storm, other times slowing to a trickle as in a drought.  Life in this human form is a strange thing indeed. 

I must fess up to not feeling the least bit jolly this particular year.  Too many catastrophes world-wide that are wrapped around my mind like a heavy, wet wool blanket on a hot, humid day.  I feel the urgency of time running out, and yet it mires me in place, rather than spurring me into movement and action. 

Winter Solstice is only a couple of days away, a time when the light of the day will begin to increase slowly again each day.  Yet I have drawn inward, and need longer than just a few days to begin stretching for the light again.  I am comforted by the shorter, darker Winter days right now, although I have felt the shorter days weigh heavy at the beginning of the time change this year.

I chose not to put up our traditional big Christmas tree this year.  Saving those spurts of energy for some baking and sewing.  I am enjoying those two things the most this Season.

 
                   The Peace of Wild Things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Wendell Berry

2 comments:

Tabor said...

I think all of us are going through the EXACT same thing. We are also switching to a much smaller tree...as oldies do when they reach a "certain" age. I do not fear aging, as it is a normal process and I am so blessed. Yes, we are fearful of our country's future. There are so many of us. We must be strong, donate our time and money and words to the good causes and fight the good fight. We so not have to fear job loss or friend's loss. We are the lucky ones in this battle.

Karen L R said...

We call him Saint Wendell and his poems are our sacred texts. He and Mary Oliver and Anne Lamott and so many others...their grace and wisdom will help us get through this mire! Be of strong heart and growing courage, friend. xo