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Christmas Morning Musings.
Dec. 25th, 2008 07:11 amChristmas morning.
Tick tock. Tick tock.
Everyone else is asleep. No dreams of sugar plum fairies, I bet. When was the last time you even *thought* about a fairy in charge of sugar plums? Hell, when was the last time you saw a sugar plum?
I keep dreaming about our cats back home. I know they are in the good hands of good friends and consciously, I am not worried. My subconscious, however, is of the opinion that I am anxious about being away from them.
Tick tock.
There are massive metal wind chimes outside. The wind comes whipping down the hills, mighty susurrate roars which set them clanging like temple bells.
The house has the quiet poise of a temple at this early hour. Soon there will be holiday hustle and bustle - of breakfast and shredded paper and the glee of gifts. But now, at this moment, temple bells and ticking clocks are the only timekeepers, the only reference points, the ambient structure of my universe at this instant.
Tick tock.
Measuring each second of the universe as it moves through me. Time, after all, is the movement of thought through space. I read that somewhere. It makes sense to me.
Tick tock.
Ding dong.
Clickety clack.
Sniffle.
Rinse and repeat.
I often joke about the holiday season, calling it the Solstice-Derived Gift-Exchange Ritual. It really is a very important time of the year. The winter solstice is the aphelion of our orbit around the sun. It is when we are farthest from the source of our energy, the source of all light. Metaphorically, this is our darkest time. The turn back toward the light is thus an important step, a desperate revelation, like seeing the first pink fingers of dawn after a night of fighting zombies.
The winter solstice is every novel, play, and film where a character travels a dark path but turns around and comes back to the light. The winter solstice is redemption. It is Persephone leaving Hades. It matters not that the historical Jesus was really born in June. The myth of Jesus is about redemption, and like the other sun gods before him, is about bringing light into a dark time.
Thus, it is this time of year, this solstice, this degraded consumer holiday, that I try to redeem myself. "Physician, heal thyself!" I try to look toward the light, to let more light into the darkest parts of my self. It is the time for mental, emotional, and spiritual spring cleaning.
I am reminded of the analogy that humans are like flawed crystals, diffusing divine light into the dark matter of manifestation. The goal, says this analogy, is to remake ourselves, to fix these flaws so that the divine may shine clearer and brighter and truer into the world.
Tick tock.
Tick tock. Tick tock.
Everyone else is asleep. No dreams of sugar plum fairies, I bet. When was the last time you even *thought* about a fairy in charge of sugar plums? Hell, when was the last time you saw a sugar plum?
I keep dreaming about our cats back home. I know they are in the good hands of good friends and consciously, I am not worried. My subconscious, however, is of the opinion that I am anxious about being away from them.
Tick tock.
There are massive metal wind chimes outside. The wind comes whipping down the hills, mighty susurrate roars which set them clanging like temple bells.
The house has the quiet poise of a temple at this early hour. Soon there will be holiday hustle and bustle - of breakfast and shredded paper and the glee of gifts. But now, at this moment, temple bells and ticking clocks are the only timekeepers, the only reference points, the ambient structure of my universe at this instant.
Tick tock.
Measuring each second of the universe as it moves through me. Time, after all, is the movement of thought through space. I read that somewhere. It makes sense to me.
Tick tock.
Ding dong.
Clickety clack.
Sniffle.
Rinse and repeat.
I often joke about the holiday season, calling it the Solstice-Derived Gift-Exchange Ritual. It really is a very important time of the year. The winter solstice is the aphelion of our orbit around the sun. It is when we are farthest from the source of our energy, the source of all light. Metaphorically, this is our darkest time. The turn back toward the light is thus an important step, a desperate revelation, like seeing the first pink fingers of dawn after a night of fighting zombies.
The winter solstice is every novel, play, and film where a character travels a dark path but turns around and comes back to the light. The winter solstice is redemption. It is Persephone leaving Hades. It matters not that the historical Jesus was really born in June. The myth of Jesus is about redemption, and like the other sun gods before him, is about bringing light into a dark time.
Thus, it is this time of year, this solstice, this degraded consumer holiday, that I try to redeem myself. "Physician, heal thyself!" I try to look toward the light, to let more light into the darkest parts of my self. It is the time for mental, emotional, and spiritual spring cleaning.
I am reminded of the analogy that humans are like flawed crystals, diffusing divine light into the dark matter of manifestation. The goal, says this analogy, is to remake ourselves, to fix these flaws so that the divine may shine clearer and brighter and truer into the world.
Tick tock.
