The wonder of Christmas and a new year

Some begin a new year with the Winter Solstice; others wait until January 1. Jewish new year is sometime in September we think; and Chinese around mid-February next year. Lately we've been thinking a lot about how to make 2021 better than the past four years, even allowing for all the things we can't control.

One way we know of, but haven't been doing enough of, is to focus more on the things we can control. Here's an example: during 2020 we let the weather control our decisions about going fishing. Too windy? Don't bother. Too wet, wait for a dryer, less windy day. We missed a lot of fishing trips with that approach. For next year we're going to plan on going when  we can, regardless of weather. If it's too windy, we'll use the time to scout new locations. Too wet? We've already got better rain gear, now we'll get to wear it.

each dawn brings the wonder of a new day

Photo by J. Harrington

Much of this comes under the heading of giving ourself a Christmas present/promise of better self-care in 2021. Recently we began reading for the fifth or seventh or eleventy-nineth time one of our favorite writers, Gene Hill, who portrays much about why this change is important in this excerpt:

But the truth, to my way of seeing it, is that those who love the bits and pieces of being there—the sweetness of a singing lark, the way one whitetail can suddenly fill up a clearing, the fearsomeness of a sudden storm, and the almost unbelievable sense of relief when we’ve gotten out of a very sticky situation—have to have a sense of the magic of it all, a belief in the intangible and unknown, and no small degree of unquestionable wonder.

The other night we gave our copy of Rachel Carson's The Sense of Wonder to the Daughter Person and Son-In-Law to share with their two and a half month old daughter, our granddaughter. We've probably never given our parents enough credit, or thanks, for helping us develop and keep our own sense of unquestionable wonder, nor have we accepted enough responsibility for how much we've allowed it to become run down and worn out over the years. Christmas is a time for children and we've let ourself become too adult too much of the time, so one of our presents to ourself this Christmas is to start to fix that by getting out more to collect more of those important bits and pieces of being there for no better reason than it's a wonder-full place to be, this world of ours.

Loving the World

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird —
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.

by  Mary Oliver

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