holiday musing and darkside -live in paris

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Charles Dickens

i simply want to wish any and all of my readers a festive holiday season. i continue to receive the benefits of making change in my life through my moods and my experience. my self-respect grows, and my ability to care for others increases with the practice i put into it. 

festival of light

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i thought i would just share some short stories that have the winter solstice as a theme. somehow it has never really occurred to me until now, just how dark these last few weeks in december are and how important and affective the symbolic lighting of the trees and the bringiing in the light of stories and fables about the best in us- the kindness in us, and the giving qualities that almost all of us possess- when we are giving we are far less likely to be dwelling on other emotions. 

The Story of Santa Lucia
(There are several versions of the story of Lucia but this is a nice one!)

Lucia was an Italian girl, born in Sicily in the 3rd century A.D. It was a time when the Romans were persecuting Christians, and Lucia’s family was Christian. When her father died, Lucia vowed to remain unmarried and to serve God, but since she didn’t tell anyone about this vow, her widowed mother went ahead and promised her in marriage to a suitor who was not a Christian. Lucia said no thanks, I’d rather be an old maid, and she proceeded to give her dowry away to the poor. The young man’s pride was severely injured, so he reported Lucia to the Roman authorities and she was tried and convicted of being a Christian. The judge decided that a suitable punishment for a woman who wanted to remain chaste was to be sold into slavery – to a brothel. But when the soldiers came to take her away, they were unable to move her! Rather than being awed by this, they proceeded to pour oil over her and set her on fire. The oil burned – Lucia did not! Still unimpressed, the soldiers beat and tortured her and tried to get her to deny her Christian faith, but she refused. So they stuck a sword into her throat and that did kill her. She died a martyr’s death on December 13, 304 A.D. For her faithfulness, she was made a saint. 
How did a Sicilian saint become a part of Swedish tradition? Legend has it that back in the Middle Ages, the Swedish province of Varmland was experiencing a terrible famine and people were starving to death. On the longest night of the shortest day of the year – which also happened to be St. Lucia’s Day, December 13th – a light suddenly appeared on Lake Vanern. It was a large white boat filled with food, and at the helm was a beautiful young woman in a white gown wearing a crown of lights. Lucia had come to rescue the Swedes! As soon as the ship was unloaded, it disappeared.
Swedish custom is that on Santa Lucia Day, mother and children get up very early in the morning to make the traditional Lussekatter (rolls made with saffron) and Luciapepparkakor (ginger cookies). The oldest daughter portrays Lucia dressed in a long white robe with a red sash with a crown of lit candles on her head. She carries the tray of food as she leads the procession of mother and the other children who sing the traditional Santa Lucia song as they march to the father’s room. 
Traditionally, the winner of the Noble Prize in Literature has the supreme honor of crowning Stockholm’s Santa Lucia. Traditionally, miracles can happen at midnight on the eve of St. Lucia’s Day and animal may talk. Traditionally, the cook buries the lutefisk in beech ashes on St. Lucia’s Day. You don’t have to be Swedish to celebrate Santa Lucia – Lucia wasn’t a Swede! Välkommen! Varsågod!

There is a story about a princess who had a small eye problem that she felt was really bad. Being the king’s daughter, she was rather spoiled and kept crying all the time. When the doctors wanted to apply medicine, she would invariably refuse any medical treatment and kept touching the sore spot on her eye. In this way it became worse and worse, until finally the king proclaimed a large reward for whoever could cure his daughter. After some time, a man arrived who claimed to be a famous physician, but actually was not even a doctor.

He declared that he could definitely cure the princess and was admitted to her chamber. After he had examined her, he exclaimed, “Oh, I’m so sorry!” “What is it?” the princess inquired. The doctor said, “There is nothing much wrong with your eye, but there is something else that is really serious.” The princess was alarmed and asked, “What on earth is so serious?” He hesitated and said, “It is really bad. I shouldn’t tell you about it.” No matter how much she insisted, he refused to tell her, saying that he could not speak without the king’s permission.

When the king arrived, the doctor was still reluctant to reveal his findings. Finally the king commanded, “Tell us what is wrong. Whatever it is, you have to tell us!” At last the doctor said, “Well, the eye will get better within a few days – that is no problem. The big problem is that the princess will grow a tail, which will become at least nine fathoms long. It may start growing very soon. If she can detect the first moment it appears, I might be able to prevent it from growing.” At this news everyone was deeply concerned. And the princess, what did she do? She stayed in bed, day and night, directing all her attention to detecting when the tail might appear. Thus, after a few days, her eye got well.

This shows how we usually react. We focus on our little problem and it becomes the center around which everything else revolves. So far, we have done this repeatedly, life after life. We think, “My wishes, my interests, my likes and dislikes come first!” As long as we function on this basis, we will remain unchanged. Driven by impulses of desire and rejection, we will travel the roads of samsara without finding a way out. As long as attachment and aversion are our sources of living and drive us onward, we cannot rest.


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image credit… frank lloyd wright holiday

Love is what’s in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen. ~Author unknown, attributed to a 7-year-old named Bobby

home has taken on a new identity for me over the last few years. in 2004 i found myself back in colorado after having crashed and burned in california. i was merely considering getting into recovery and i had an epiphany regarding home. i had always had an aversion to living here in the rockies because its pace is much much slower than my manic side- or the side that rules my impulses and my decisions. but i have always done better here- been more grounded here, and remained tethered to the earth here.

this year, i have felt like immersing myself in the holiday like not before. i put up a tree for the 1st time since i bought the house 2007. i put decorations on the outside of the house. i found gifts for friends instead of just cards. and i hosted a very small dinner on saturday night. i had tried entertaining at my house in 2009, but it didn’t go perfectly and i got frustrated. as a matter of fact, i yelled at a cousin at the end of thanksgiving dinner that year, and he and i haven’t spoken since then.

this year- 8 years into my drug free life, i have created  a new home. i have tried – not with great ease- to entertain at that home and welcome others into my world. last night i had a small faction of my tribe over for a holiday dinner and movie. it was surprisingly easy and comfortable. it was quiet. it was sweet. it was intimate. and it was warm.

it was definitely home. i have a large extended family that remains distant. there were the years that i wasn’t able to be around alcohol followed by the years i chose not to be around it. just like many families, many of mine have its romance with booze and drugs. some seem enmeshed. it has been easier to stay aloof. unexpectedly, i got a card in the mail from that cousin i mentioned. he’s moved on to la and to the next phase of his life. i put one back in the mail immediately. i have sent one every year, but i can’t remember whether he has. he has been struggling with anger- probably disappointment, his mental health, and his drinking and pot smoking. i remain in no position to be judgmental about struggles of that kind.

at the hospital where i work, this is the 2nd year i have played santa at the women and family service’s party. this time, we laid out the event differently and the moments with santa were much more intimate. i met kids who were thrilled to list what they wanted for the holiday and proud to declare that they had been good. then there were the ones who screamed in my face when they realized they might leave the safety of mom’s arms and be put in my lap. it was the funniest thing i have seen in awhile. i think this might fill anyone with the spirit of the holidays. it certainly did me. but what got me more was the comradeship and the teamwork that my co-workers displayed for this whole thing. everyone pitched in and no one had to be asked to participate.

as the seasons go by, i find it easier to be present. there remain ancient guideposts and scars, but the newness of my awareness of them fades much of their strength. i am happy to be happy today.

reflecting the lights

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To dispel darkness and usher in new day,
To light up the path leading towards glow;
There is celebration marked along the way
Of perfumed oils, lamps and delicacy stow.
The Festival of Lights brightens the East,
To reflect in jocund spirit Occident love;
It symbolizes time for triumph and feast,
Day by night that is blessed from above.
Call it what you may or celebrate whenever,
Give it form of will or meaning filled a-new,
It epitomizes the victory of peace over sever,
And regenerates space for all that is ever true.
Spelling the onset of winter, frost and cold,
Bringing on the warmth of glow and light,
All festivities center on creating fresh mold,
Awaiting with discrimination, end of night.
Harkening the forces of prosperity and joy,
Calling upon the auspiciousness of deed,
Festivities strengthen deep faith to destroy,
Forces of evil and hate, to harmony cede.
Designed around the need to retrace intent,
To question and analyze with mental rites,
May the universe unfold in genuine assent,
To spread felicity during the Festival of Lights.

after the tryptophan of the few days off in november wanes, the swing of the winter axis takes place. it is the celebration of lights that is my north american holiday. it coincides with the winter solstice which is the shortest day of the year and accordingly the longest night. the lights that symbolize this may very well be an attempt to light that darkest part of our year with the sunlight of spirit.

“…and the time came
when the risk it took to remain
in a tightly closed bud
became infinitely more painful
than the risk it took to blossom.” (Anais Nin)

it occurred to me today in a meeting that the emotions that stir in me around the holidays are very much paralleled  to the decorations that i unpack each year to adorn my mantle, windows, and doors.  my memories are nudged from slumber as i dust off mementos from previous winters and i connect to a deeper part of self. the very fact that i have my own symbols of light and sparkle speak volumes to the idea that the energy that swirls at this time of year is very close to my center. and my culture has taught me to collect sparkle during the longest dark to remind me that there is light in the world.

“Shall we liken Christmas to the web in a loom? There are many weavers, who work into the pattern the experience of their lives. When one generation goes, another comes to take up the weft where it has been dropped. The pattern changes as the mind changes, yet never begins quite anew. At first, we are not sure that we discern the pattern, but at last we see that, unknown to the weavers themselves, something has taken shape before our eyes, and that they have made something
very beautiful, something which compels our understanding.”
– Earl W. Count, 4,000 Years of Christmas