our recently departed holly plant in better days
Photo by J. Harrington
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More and more we've become enamored of a practice of using this time of year to examine what may be holding us back and to cast it off or away so we can better move forward as the sun begins to return in a few days and a new year is upon us. Until recently, we had done very well holding to a New Year's Resolution we made many years ago, to not make New Year's Resolutions. That whole time, we hadn't once considered the possibility of remaking or renewal of ourselves. We were focused on discrete actions like learning something or losing something like weight. These days we're trying more to create some coherence across our activities. The Druid cycle based on an eightfold wheel of the year and druid festivals helps bring some unity into our life.
We mentioned a few posts ago that we have a family tradition that requires us to find, purchase and read a "Christmas book" each year. This year we chose The Dragon in the Christmas Tree. Even though there are some dragon-lovers in our family, this book might have been more enjoyable if some of us were much younger. (Ursula Le Guin's Earthsea cycle sets a very high standard for the portrayal of dragons.) Anyway, this morning we serendipitously came across what we think will be next year's selection, Merry Midwinter: How to Rediscover the Magic of the Christmas Season.We're hopeful that it may do for humans what Ray Bradbury's Dogs Think that Every Day Is Christmas did for extending the season for canines.
Toward the Winter Solstice
Although the roof is just a story high, It dizzies me a little to look down. I lariat-twirl the cord of Christmas lights And cast it to the weeping birch’s crown; A dowel into which I’ve screwed a hook Enables me to reach, lift, drape, and twine The cord among the boughs so that the bulbs Will accent the tree’s elegant design. Friends, passing home from work or shopping, pause And call up commendations or critiques. I make adjustments. Though a potpourri Of Muslims, Christians, Buddhists, Jews, and Sikhs, We all are conscious of the time of year; We all enjoy its colorful displays And keep some festival that mitigates The dwindling warmth and compass of the days. Some say that L.A. doesn’t suit the Yule, But UPS vans now like magi make Their present-laden rounds, while fallen leaves Are gaily resurrected in their wake; The desert lifts a full moon from the east And issues a dry Santa Ana breeze, And valets at chic restaurants will soon Be tending flocks of cars and SUVs. And as the neighborhoods sink into dusk The fan palms scattered all across town stand More calmly prominent, and this place seems A vast oasis in the Holy Land. This house might be a caravansary, The tree a kind of cordial fountainhead Of welcome, looped and decked with necklaces And ceintures of green, yellow, blue, and red. Some wonder if the star of Bethlehem Occurred when Jupiter and Saturn crossed; It’s comforting to look up from this roof And feel that, while all changes, nothing’s lost, To recollect that in antiquity The winter solstice fell in Capricorn And that, in the Orion Nebula, From swirling gas, new stars are being born.
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