I had a great Thanksgiving, and a wonderful extra-long weekend. (Hope you all did too.) I was a modern-day pilgrim, kind of—eating the first Thanksgiving at Sue and Danny’s new place across town (with a bonus brunch there on Saturday). I saw two of my nephews and one of my nieces, went out with Kerri/my sis/bro-in-law/niece to see a local band, got the tree up, and got the house decorated—which means every one of my 7 nay-tivities (9 if you count the two on the tree) is displayed in full splendor. Each time I come into the house I am greeted by an elaborately reimagined Bethlehem scene—near impossible not to feel the spirit of the season. But at the same time I felt some pangs of pulling, some weight of some somethings…and it really started to irritate me.
The transformation of the seasons is as inevitable as anything else that’s inevitable, yet every year I’m caught ever-so-slightly off guard, like I’m ill-prepared in some way, on some level. It’s the damnedest thing, really, particularly because I enjoy Fall, and I even don’t mind Winter…yet every year it upends me a bit, disorients me somewhat…when I think about it, I think maybe it’s that I hear the passing of time a bit louder in the sharp rustling of leaves than gently lapping waves. In any case, re-reading a great quote by John Steinbeck yesterday was a huge help…it asks a question whose answer gave me a much-needed attitude adjustment about the changing seasonal conditions, changing my perspective about the bare trees and gray sky…about the vibrant greens giving way to toilet-browns…about the the cold temperatures and the biting winds…all of it…
And the question is this:
“What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness?”
Exactly. It’s no good.
And as I was wondering about all of this, I remembered more words, in this case the words of the great Albert Camus, words that reminded me that there is in me an invincible summer indeed. And so I promptly I summoned my inner invincible summer and with a few quick (but very deliberate) holiday song selections, here I am, back to better…full eyes, clear hearts, can’t lose.
This week finds me with plans to see some great friends, and my mom comes home from FL. I have so much to be happy about, so I’m glad I did a full Fall cleanup of both brain and soul…getting rid of the rubble and clearing out the detritus leaves me open and able to be present in each moment that appears in front of me. Tonight is dinner with a dear old friend and her sister…and while I am thrilled to see them I am also dreading it. My friend is experiencing the recent (also sudden and untimely) death of her young (56) husband…two months later and I still have no words. But I can open my door and my heart and a few bottles of wine and I can serve up as much love as they want to consume…and I’ll send them out with as many doggy bags as they need or want to carry…because I can do that. I hope it’s true that actions speak louder than words, because that may be all I have tonight. And then this weekend a besty is driving down and we’re heading to Provincetown Saturday morning to visit another dear mutual friend who recently bought an inn right in town. In between it all Connie makes her grand return for a month, so I’ll be back to my weekly dinners and Saturday Costco trips before you know it. Much too amazing of a week to get in my own way of enjoying it, regardless...
Life is change, and change is constant. We can look in a lot of directions—backward, upward, downward, sideward—and we can look as far in the rearview or as to the horizon as our eyes will let us. But I think for me, life happens when I look a moment right in the eye, when I engage with it, and when I allow myself to be little affected by parting of ways with it. Life is change and change is constant…I choose to marvel at the connectedness of it all rather than lamenting what’s gone by or fretting about what may or may not come. I choose to thank the winter for the cold that delivers summer it’s sweetness. I choose to celebrate my inner invincible summer. I choose to thank the toilet browns…without them, we wouldn’t have our vibrant greens. I choose love and life and light.
I’ll leave you with this, one of the greatest songs of both the 80s and all time, with one of the greatest lyrics ever written, IMO, a lyric that sums up how I feel—perpetually optimistic yet realistic: “I’m not expecting to grow flowers in the desert, but I can live and breathe and see the sun in wintertime.” (Yeah sometimes breathing in wintertime requires me to take a few hits of albuterol from my trusty inhaler, but it’s all good.)
Thank you for being here—love you too.