This morning I am thinking of all you readers in your cozy little homes in woods and cities, suburbs and mountains, small towns and lakesides.
Some of us are busy: rushing to and fro, wrapping gifts, preparing for company. We’re sizzlin’ and crazed trying to cross items off our to-do lists.
Others of us feel less overwhelmed. Perhaps we even wish for more busyness, more loved ones around, more hugs and laughter.
Perhaps we’re comfortable with what is, whatever is appearing.
Perhaps we’re feeling ALL of these feelings at various junctures of the day.
Wherever you are in this holy-day week, I wish you many blessings to fulfill your soul’s purpose on this bright and crazy and dark and wonderful shining planet.
We are feeling relatively quiet and peaceful in our little house in the woods.
On the evening we returned from Georgia Barry cut down a spruce in an overgrown area near our burn pile. He hoisted it up on the deck with my assistance and put it in our heavy green Christmas tree stand. We strung lights in ten minutes flat and–wa-la–our first outdoors Christmas tree! No fuss, no muss, no tinsel, no watering, no falling needles.
We sip coffee in the morning and admire the twinkling lights. In the evening I meditate with the tree in the background: Silent night, holy night. The world may appear to be going to hell in a handbasket, but there’s the message of Christ in a manger, isn’t there? The calm in the midst of the storm. Remember, you struggling human beings, remember what lies in the center of seeming chaos. Remember what exists just beneath the surface of what threatens.
I listen to the silent beating heart and nod. Yes. I will try to remember.
A snowstorm blew through last weekend dumping eight inches of snow upon us. A 50 mph wind blew and shook the house. The Christmas tree on the deck spun around in its stand like a dancing Frosty the Snowman. We tied it it down with ropes to keep it from spiraling up to the heavens.
Then comes the snowplowing. My job involves shoveling, scraping, defrosting and moving cars. Barry plows. It’s a never-ending job throughout the long winter. Snow, plow, snow, plow. Over and over endlessly. (Except last winter. We only plowed four times. Go figure!)
The weather shifts and shifts again. One day there’s bright blue on the bay. The next day roiling black clouds and lake-effect snow.
Oh December, oh darkest time of the year, we remember thee. I love that Solstice offers its hope right in the center of the Holy-days.
Another view of our outside Christmas tree before I begin to vacuum, dust, clean. We’re having two friends over this afternoon for appetizers and drinks. My contribution will be smoked paprika hummus with rice crackers and stuffed mushrooms. They want to be home before dark because they feed the deer late afternoon each day
I would love to hear what you will be doing during this Christmas season.
Again, Merry Christmas to all! Or whatever Holy-days you celebrate. May any Grinch-like parts of our hearts expand three sizes. May we experience the peace of our wholeness. So many blessings… Love, Kathy