when he came over for dinner a few days ago he asked when we were going to take down the holiday decorations. “sheesh!” i said. “it’s barely over!”
truth of the matter is that i love the light and spirit of the holiday decorations. the intermingling of the everyday with the celebration of divine. even so, we will – soon – take down the Christmas tree, all the little trees, the ornaments. we may leave a few crystals up for a while. and, definitely, the happy lights stay. there is nothing wrong with keeping light and real-life intermingled.
pine branches on the trail always get my attention. there are sections of our trail that just have a glorious scent. those spots instantly take me back to a favorite hike in the colorado mountains – where we hike through a pine forest alongside a brook that meanders down the mountain. funny how scents do that.
it’s like any time there is the slightest bit of salt in the air i am back at the beach where i processed most of my teenage years, back in the sand where i walked winter, spring, summer, fall.
the rolling-around of the new year prompts much memory-exploring. i can’t help but think of holidays past, of decades of new years turning, of resolutions and wishes, of sadnesses and hopes for new, times of tucking away the holiday and times of leaving it all up longer than ever.
for right now, the snowy pine needles nudged me to keep it all up. for a few more days. intermingled. to stretch the magic it creates a little bit longer.
it is hard for me to pass by something this beautiful – this wispy milkweed pod – without stopping. i am fortunate to hike with someone who understands this. we stop and i study the milkweed; i take several shots.
it is not the first time i have taken photographs of milkweed in the winter. i’m pretty sure it won’t be the last. each time i see milkweed – even in the winter – even in its fallow – i feel like it is different – its slant in the meadow, the curve of the pod, the way sunlight plays on it.
this is how i will get through it all, i think. zeroing in on intense beauty, tiny nuances, millisecond moments. i realize that this is the power that is available to me. this is the distraction.
the invitations are numerous from the side of the trail, from the side of life. they beckon to each of us and it is up to us whether to accept those invitations.
i am kind of a detail person…so the invitations are somewhat evident to me, hard to miss. they blur out everything else, if you intend to really take notice.
and, in just that way, we are intending new practices – more intentional meditation, more exercise, more outside. and each time – despite any same-ness, there is the possibility of new. each time we may stop and study or gaze and admire.
“things will not be the same, because we will not be the same.” (anon)
it may be difficult to avoid focusing on the way things will be in these fraught times. nevertheless, we will try to focus elsewhere. to lean into the beautiful and leave the rest of it blurred.
it was almost like a reverse-print. the trail revealed only the snow-footprints left behind.
i studied photography a bit in college. this trail was like the negative of the positive. in darkroom speak, a “negative” is a reversed image – the dark is light and vice versa – when you shine light through the negative onto the paper upon which you’re printing, the tones revert back to their correct appearance, to that which is Real.
the snow of the trail had blown off, save for the footprints. as people used to seeing footprints stamped in the snow, it is somewhat odd to see just the snowprints on a dirt trail.
i couldn’t help but ponder the parallel.
what will we leave behind as our footprints in 2025? what impression will we make? what impact will we have? what will people see on the path after we have walked on?
when we shine light through all we are, all we do, all we say in 2025, what will be the Real printed for all time?
i have no doubt we’ll all fall over it at some point – the precipice.
there will be some moment of grief, some slight, some jarring change, some out-and-out grotesque manifestation of this-thing-that-is-coming that will be the precipice for each of us.
i have already felt it. i fell over it on new year’s day. i realized that this thing that is coming now – in 2025 – this new administration’s cruelty and revenge, the emphasized attitudes disenfranchising people, the new way of being in this country, the gloating extremist, isolationist stance this country will take in this world – is already taking a toll. the precipice is real.
for the life of me i cannot understand wanting such things. i cannot understand turning my back on the rights and needs and experiences of my own family or friends. i cannot understand being a cheerleader for what’s coming. and, on new year’s day, it pushed me over the precipice and i spent the day grieving. for all the light i have tried to seek, for all the light i have tried to be, this thing-that-is-coming faster-than-fast pushed me under and into darkness.
it is real.
there will be fallout. fallout for people who know it’s coming, for people who bandwagoned and didn’t bother researching, for people who have family and friends against whom they voted. and that’s the part that made my heart hurtle over the cliff.
even though i knew it – and have known it for a couple months now – the fallout – part of which, of course, is silence – is painful beyond imagining.
knowing is hard.
i imagine i am not alone…one day at a time it all becomes more and more real…and so one day at a time there are others who are over-the-precipice-ing. it’s not going away and, as we are gleaning, it will only get worse and worse. and people voted for all of it. and i wonder – again and again – if it ever occurred to them to think about their own families or friends or community that might be drastically impacted by this new reality – the one they were choosing.
and so the fallout will gain momentum. not just the stuff that the new administration is going to set in place – the stuff that will marginalize more and more people, that will push people down – those already disenfranchised, those about-to-be disenfranchised. the fallout will lift up others – those with self-aggrandizing agenda, those with monster motives, those who perpetuate hatred, those who are clearly soul-less. and the fallout – well – it will snap the binding of relationships at their core, it will silence conversation, it will destroy friendships, it will undermine families.
because it’s real.
now – each time we are hurtled over the precipice – for it is likely that will be more than once – it will be our job to climb back up, to seek safe shelter and to heal from the pummeling of the precipice-fall. even a little bit. to keep going. to get to – what we hope will be – the other side of all this. to survive.
when i looked up the term “go the extra mile” one of the definitions was from http://www.collinsdictionary.com. it listed the definition as “willing to make a special effort to do or achieve something.” then it gave an example, which was this: “the president is determined ‘to go the extra mile for peace.'” ahh. good example. uh-huh. let’s hope so.
sometimes the extra mile is only a candle in a bag.
the luminaria lit the night, cutting through darkness and cold. it conjured up my sweet momma and poppo, inviting them from behind the curtain of the other dimension. it was beautiful and hopeful; a tiny gesture. on a night filled with other things, the extra mile. simple and profound.
it will be rare in life to know the result of something we do. the extra mile may never reveal its impact. the concentric circles may never ripple the water in ways we can see. but no river stands absolutely still. and, in between the right now and next, the current is pulling us past every single opportunity for the extra mile.
in this new year, we hope to grab onto the opportunities – like life preservers – and choose to go those extra miles. big or small. passionately.
“it is better to light a candle than curse.” (eleanor roosevelt)
and here we are – on the edge of a new year. we are merely a day hike, homemade pizza, a jigsaw puzzle, a bonfire, and a glass of wine away. not much time left now.
it was either when we were on the trail the other day or moseying about doing errands when he said, “ya know how you feel when the new year is almost there – like it’s a fresh start just waiting to happen? i don’t feel that this time.”
i understand.
instead, there is a prevailing sense of dread…one that is like a low frequency vibration in your body…knowing that something is coming and it is not good.
the trepidation is real. there is much cruelty lurking out there – an administration that is just waiting to take power and to prey on the populace of not-haves, the populace they dislike, even hate, the populace from which they will feed their egos and their bank accounts. it is looking to be a dark time and they are intensely gleeful talking about their promises and threats, which makes my stomach hurt.
and so we – like many – wonder how we will survive this dreadful period of time.
we have chosen light.
“if everything around seems dark, look again, you may be the light.” (rumi)
so as we head into this new year – so devastatingly fraught – we will intentionally look for light. we will focus on light. we will carry light with us. we will attempt – truly attempt – to be light.
every bauble will capture our attention. every ray of sunlight. every happy light. every snowflake. every candleflame. every flicker of hope. inside or out. we intend to pay attention. we intend to notice. we know light is not just light – it is given in generosity, in shared time, in words of reassurance, in moments of peace. we intend to linger in light and dispel the dark that threatens us…both in the sanctuary of our home and out in the world.
as we skirt the edges of this new year – 2025 just hours away – we wish you light as well. certainly – together – each bringing giant beams or the tiniest slivers of light – we may counteract the dark.
“darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” (martin luther king, jr.)
we were talking about what it used to be like – out holiday shopping.
we both individually remember the out-and-about of windowshopping and browsing and pondering and findingjusttherightthing as including the time and space for stopping, for a nice cup of coffee and a treat, maybe for lunch out.
it was sheer indulgence the other day when we used a long-saved gift card for dinner out after a fun day of shopping. and yesterday, we did a thing.
we actually – mid-day-mid-shopping – stopped at a bakery to pick out a danish (yes, sacrificing the usual gluten-free-ness) and then we went next door to starbucks to get a christmas blend coffee. we shared both – jubilant at the “old-timey” tradition we were re-enacting, pretty happy with ourselves that we chose to take the time and splurge on coffee and a treat.
it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas!
i spent a-couple-years-less-than-a-decade celebrating christmas in florida. though everyone still decorates and the holiday rush is still pushing you forward, it never quite felt the same as christmas up north. i suppose if i had grown up in the south it – the traditions and rituals and things i associate with christmas – would be different, but having grown up in the northeast, i associate the holidays with being bundled up, the cold, the snow, pink cheeks and noses, mittens and scarves. there is a different sparkle to twinkle lights in snow.
we here in our neck of wisconsin may not have a white christmas this year. but it will be brisk enough for the deck to make cracking noises as we walk to our backdoor, for the radiators to clunk a little, for the wood floors to creak under our feet. ice will paint beautiful images on a couple of the north-facing windows, the stars in the bitter sky will seem brighter and dogga will be in his glory laying outside in the cold. it’ll be cozy inside, surrounded by the glimmering trappings of the holiday.
maybe – as we continue our march toward Christmas Day – in-between bits of shopping and wrapping and shipping and clearing out and giving away – we will take a few minutes here and there to celebrate the right-now of it all. maybe we’ll consider another coffee out, another pastry. maybe we’ll bundle up and go see some special lights. maybe – just maybe – i’ll play some carols in my studio. this is the time of year i especially miss creating a space – with and through music – in which other hearts might open to the spirit of the holidays, to sink into that which they feel but cannot see.
as adults – whose bars for enchantment are higher than in childhood or for whom perhaps reality has life-light-dimmed – we all sometimes struggle as these times roll around. we know it’s up to each of us to create any magic in these holidays, to recognize it, to linger in it. the tiniest bit of indulgence goes a long way. indulging out and indulging in.
we were on the phone and she said, “we all just need to check out a while.”
i couldn’t agree more.
it has been a lot. more than a lot. and it just continues on and on and on – this farcical nightmare of politics. there is nothing like watching an incoming administration poking fun at every single serious issue out there, lining its own pockets and the pockets of kakistocratic cronies, maniacally ranting and raging and seeking revenge, raising up the uppers and cruelly disempowering the middles and the lowers. it is utterly exhausting and disrespectful to the core of this nation.
but this is me…checking out.
so as we are tending to this holiday season, looking for gifts – the things people may need or wish for – and shopping, i know that there is one thing that we simply cannot buy – for ourselves or anyone else:
hope.
and so we’ll do our best to make people smile, to engage people, to let them know we are thinking about them and holding them close – particularly now, when so many others have disappointed us and them, particularly now, with the emotional whiplash we have felt as a result of the loss of positive possibility, particularly now, grieving the burial of any goodness from the top down, particularly now, overwhelmed by the stunned surprise we have felt watching those we care about wholeheartedly support this horror.
i know that we cannot buy hope. and i know that right now it seems far away, especially if we are actively paying attention to the intentional bullying and destruction of all we know as this democracy.
but that doesn’t stop us from yearning for it, from seeking it, from creating it. together.
it feels like we have been barreling through time and space – bouncing off broadcasts and pundits, headlines and breaking news – as if in a virtual pinball machine – not too much control but a lot of noise.
we have decided to get off the ride. as a person who is easily motion-sicknessed, i am weary of the political nausea, the tiltawhirl of these times, the roller coaster of insanity, the cauldron where people have tossed their morality. it’s time to step to the side and not watch every single ball hit every single paddle, bounce off every single bumper and slide down every single ramp while ineptly working the flippers.
because, really, sue aikens is right. the now IS all we have.
it’s time to slow down and just live.
the author wrote, “…i’m no longer under the impression that i can outrun the 77-million-person mob that voted in favor of racism, misogyny, violence and corruption…” (lisa bernardi)
and i agree. i can’t either. but that doesn’t mean that i have to participate with them, hang out with them, trust them. and that, frankly, is pretty heartbreaking. but it is also time-and-space-perspective-arranging.
if, indeed, the now is all we have – which i think is true – then we need attend to the fleeting things that are life-giving, that are generative, that are intentions of kindness, that give us peace.
we need to make the best plans we can, all the while knowing that they may be dashed.
we need to be with those who share our values, who wish for an earth, a country, a state, a community, a family that leads with goodness.
and we need to find ways to linger in every single thing that feeds our souls.
if you asked george winston about reprising, he’d laugh and tell you that we here – in this household – have reprised his thanksgiving album hundreds of times. there is nothing wrong with a good reprise.
we put the rolling computer desk up on facebook marketplace – for free. the first person to respond was a young woman named steph. there was a bit of a goof-up on pickup and she messaged her apology and said she understood us moving on to the next interested person. and, even though i messaged a couple others about its availability, i decided to write back to her to see if she still wanted it. she needed us to wait a few days for her to pick it up. i agreed to wait and the computer desk had an awkwardly-placed home smack-dab in our living room for those days. it turned out a bit helpful as we decorated our home yesterday – a place to put ornaments and mini-trees while we planned and designed our decorations.
this morning she came to pick it up, this rolling desk we had placed on our front door sidewalk, this rolling desk i thanked before it went away. i went out to meet her when she was walking up the driveway and she thanked me profusely for holding it for her, for waiting.
i told her that it seemed to me that people really need to be nice to each other right now, especially right now. she replied she wished that it were christmas all year round. i said that i just wished people were good to each other year round. we shared just a few more moments before she left, but it wasn’t before i was grateful that we had waited – to give this desk to her.
and so, with george winston’s approval, we reprise this SMACK-DAB cartoon from december 2023. because right now is as good a time as any to remember the feeling of the holidays, the feeling of peace and joy, generosity and kindnesses shown to others. right now – before what’s next, before what could be harrowing, before the intended cruelness from this country’s top down – right now is a good time to zero in on how we really want to live, what we truly hold valuable, what it feels like in a community of giving, of support, of love for one another – whether we know them or not.
little morsels of goodness between people are possible. it’s impossible to close our eyes and not feel it.
now we need to decide it, to choose it, to live it.
reverse threading 