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It is a Good Winter Solstice For Me | Welcome to a new friend: day3of

day3  ofseeking my conscience

[Terry:  Wow, has she got Christmas morning right!]

 ————————-I feel good about the Solstice, it’s significance to me personally, that is. At the same time, I wonder about people who are places where the weather is really bad, yet hope (as always) that I am spared bad weather, especially just now. I have a dear one who lives in Tennessee. She is very much in my constant prayer today because I’ve read that storms are blowing through there.

——————————————————————————————————-

For me, at least, today is as it should be on solstice, a time to recognize and pay tribute to the changes this makes in people’s lives, whether we’re aware of it or not. I remember being made aware of solstice at the appropriate times off and on when I was growing in the home of my parents. The time of year was brightened somewhat by anticipating Christmas.

Christmas traditions, by now, are familiar to people all over the world. My Church stressed the spiritual values of Christmas, which really came in handy for child of one of the poorer families in the community. While not anticipating much to show for having had a Christmas tree, I learned not to covet what other children might have, and to focus on what Jesus taught about loving one another.

Back to Solstice–I remember having the blues in the days leading up to Solstice, but I was distracted by the Christmas season. Looking back through the memory of my mental state, I know the imposing darkness.soothed my inner gloom at a time when gloominess was strictly forbidden.

Christmas always was a beautiful day. Always, without fail. No matter what the weather conditions were. I do believe the Holy Spirit visited our little road on that day.

I say this because my childhood home was not itself the source of my good cheer. I always carried the tinge of disappointment throughout the day, as all my dilemmas of Christmas Magic versus existential angst proved unanswerable yet again.

My parents couldn’t get along. Mom (God bless her) always tried to dispose of the evidence as quickly as possible. I think she feared I would keep hunting through the torn gift wrap having lost my mind in the disillusionment. My father would battle her impulse to clean up; he was wise to know that Christmas must not disappear without a trace early Christmas morning no matter how modest the gifts had been. (This paragraph is a delicately painted, nostalgic understatement of the high-stress tensions in my lower middle class household  which were potentially rife on any day, barely maintained even on Christmas.)

The greatest joy of my Christmas was to get to see what the other children on the street had received. I especially enjoyed the quiet kindness of their parents as I was welcomed into their homes. I realize now that they had my childhood friends on very strict control during these visits.

My mom wouldn’t let the neighborhood children in our house, so I would them what I had received, try to look satisfied and change the subject. Only once or twice did a neighbor child question the truthfulness of my accounting. I think that was the reason I explained to Tina about Santa Claus. Her mom was really disappointed. I’m sure more so even than Tina was. Claudia (the mom) scolded me. I couldn’t think of anything to say. Tina was two years younger than I, which surely means I was still very young.

But, I digress. Today is not Christmas. I brought up Christmas in order to relate it back to the reason that I am loving the Solstice so much today which is that it justifies my mood, both the grim tone of my past few days and my optimism today. The darkness has been closing in, but I can rest assured it won’t get any worse. By Christmas day, my world will be brighter.

Happy Holidays Everyone!!! My blog is almost a year old. You who read it are real to me, and I feel bad for neglecting your blogs as well as my own.

via It is a Good Winter Solstice For Me | day3of.

Please Like Me or Don’t Hurt Me

I’m middle aged—And that is not to be confused with a younger person who has begun to fear growing old. I don’t have much cancer, talent, muscle, or money;  One could say I live my life accordingly. I live in Alabama. That is where I love from. I’m glad to be alive even though I cannot really justify it much of the time.

I regret what the human race has done to our world. I’m trying to find courage to live so as not to regret too much of what I’ve done with my life. I try not to hate, dread, or envy, but I’m willing to rant, hide, or beg.

Disclaimer: I can be too preachy and dread realizing that I have sounded as though I have no idea what I’m talking about.  Also, if something in my poetry seems nonsensical, it wasn’t on purpose…and could be the result of a cognitive dysfunction on my part.

I desire safe, beautiful, purposeful adventure. I desire to be known as a loving person. I desire to bring joy to my loved ones if I possibly can before it’s too late.

Below, please find partial lyrics for The Talking Heads’, “What a Day That Was.”

… There are fifty thousand beggars
Roaming in the streets
They have lost all their possessions
They have nothing left to eat…

… I’m dreaming of a city
It was my own invention
I put the wheels in motion
A time for big decisions

And on the first day, we had everything we could stand
Ooh and then we let it fall
And on the second day, there was nothing else at all
Ooh what a day that was…

… Ooh that’s the way it goes
There’s a million ways- to get things done
There’s a million ways- to make things work out…

__________________ Yours in hope, Day3of

For Me, The Night, A Thunderstorm Distant, Gentle Rain Present, Open Window in my Open Stairwell

12/22/13 Sunday morning. The sun rests.

As my refrigerator turns off in the kitchen behind me, the sweet thunder fades too, as though they were singing in chorus. Now, in the time it took for me to write the previous sentence, I can still hear the storm somewhere, but it sounds like a memory. I can hear light, steady rainfall  bouncing in puddles because the window in the center of my house is open three inches.

The window really is in the center, the center of the north wall of my square house.  Its sill is nine feet over the main level floor. It’s in the midway landing of the stairwell. My recliner sits at the foot of the stairwell, with just enough room not to be obstructive. I have a small house which fits like a glove.

While writing the paragraph above, I could also hear the small oscillating fan up in my bedroom. Now the refrigerator behind me is back on, as well as the water heater in the curtained closet next to my chair. I can’t hear the fan, the rain sounds like a faint trickle. The thunder spoke up a little louder for a few minutes to help me remember God, but now the storm seems — for my ears to imagine it — sleeping like my cat and my dog in my quiet life, where my soul presides … after all.

Facing my eastern windows, I see the houses across the road. The grey morning is exceptionally beautiful, and I recognize that I am happy by my having thought the grey morning beautiful.I can’t see far above the roof line of my neighbors houses because my windows look through my covered porch.

Now all is quiet, but the oscillating fan upstairs. Occasionally the storm makes muffled sounds, as though talking in sleep. I’ve heard a couple of birds since the light began–just now a crow.

I’m yawning. I don’t want to go to sleep. My body didn’t rest well, but I want to stay up and go to church. I got up with the storm this morning around 4, because I had felt the air pressure change and heard a couple of very distant sonic booms. Once I opened the window, I knew there was nothing to fear, but then I wanted to stay up.

I don’t know how to end this little story. I hear geese.

It’s already 7:20. No decision is still a decision, right? Yet, I think for me to decide to stay up is probably the same as “no decision”. I wonder if this case should give me insight into the nature of some of my choices. In this case, I’m going to fight sleep, try to forge ahead as though my destiny is tied in to mastering the challenges of unnatural states of “becoming”.

It’s so rare to have a beautiful experience of pre-dawn aloneness. I don’t want to let it go.

I’ve made my decision. I’m not going to decide while fingers are poised to type. God loves me. I’m going to take it easy on myself, and see what happens next. Good day everyone.

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2 responses

  1. I feel happy. I’ve had a rotten several days of frustrations with my internet pursuits. I’ve even thought my email may be compromised. I didn’t know what to think when I saw your “comment”. I’m stunned to have been discovered so to speak. You’re very kind. I feel honored–I don’t know what else–encouraged, hopeful. Thank you very, very much!

    Like

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