I'll Be Home for Christmas

Nothing like winter darkness to bring out religion in me.

ME: Hey, is that the abyss I’m looking into?

O.S.: Why, yes, it is. 

ME: Wait, is God down there somewhere?  In the abyss?

O.S.: (chortling) Do you want to find out?

Years ago, I went out in a friend’s tiny boat, out of the Boston Harbor into the ocean. A storm was coming, we were pitching and rocking, water coming into the boat, and I remember looking at my friend and thinking, “How well do we REALLY know anyone?”  Natalie Wood was on my mind….was she pushed? Was it an accident? What did it matter. At that point, if I landed in the water,  I was chum. Bye bye mortal remains.

Did I mention that I found it thrilling?

That being alone in the cold universe made me feel more alive than singing carols around a LED lit Christmas tree drinking eggnog?

I have recently found peace with the idea of god. It’s my own idea, I made it up. Isn’t that what everyone does? 

Just yesterday I was walking down an alley on my daily, when a fox darted in front of me, looking over his shoulder as he ran down the alley.  I stopped to give him space, when another fox darted out, following him. They ran a half a block, stopped and turned to see what I was going to do. One of them I had seen before. I recognized his tail, long, bent, and kind of beat up.  I think he slept on our porch this summer. We regarded each other for a long moment before I turned, and they trotted into the woods.

My idea of god, and it’s not for everyone, not by a long shot, isn’t totally original. I think Kahil Gibran came up with it. At least he said it on a meme, which is where I get my philosophy these days.  Who has time to read?

At the end of my walk is a stone amphitheater, built by the WPA.  A crisp morning. Everything nice and crunchy, but I take care not to step on the fern like thingeys that are covered in frost.  The Jordan Creek runs through and all kinds of waterfowl hang around till I get there and scare them away. They never stay. They have bird things to do. I wish I knew what they were. Anyway, I have people things to do. 

When I get to the creek, I open my arms and ask for help. My friend, Fanny, who is a yoga guru, taught me to do this.  I scoop up the energy and bring it to me. I need all the help I can get.

People get sniffy when I tell them I only ask for help. “Don’t you thank God or the universe?”

What kind of an ungrateful b*h am I?

This is the darkest time of the year. Everyone cheers the seconds of light we gain each day. I savor the darkness, where magic happens. Where creativity gestates and blooms. I can polish it later, in the light. I can share it later, in the light, and get official pronouncements.

But now, in the darkness, the pleasure is all mine.

In the dark, too, I think about losses, second-hand and direct hits. Deaths of two dear ones. A divorce in the family. A beloved nephew who turned his back on his family. Lost friends. I’ve had some sorrows.

Who hasn’t?

I have recently learned something about quantum physics which is this:  when an object is observed, it changes.  But there’s more: the observer changes too.

What fabulous golden thread binds us? Even the losses are woven into the fabric. 

I think of that when I look up through the 200-year-old oak tree in our backyard into the cold Christmas night sky. I don't feel alone. I think, hey, I got a pretty big house. 

And everyone’s invited.    

On the way back from my walk, a murder of crows, which has tripled since last year, buzzes me. The sentinel crow lands on a tree near me and says something in crow language.  I answer in kind. He adds to his riff, and I repeat it. He does it twice more until I can’t remember the long sequence and just laugh, and he joins the others.