Well that was a long lag time from the last post….maybe I’ll write about the intervening high-density 23 days next post. For the moment just glad not to be speaking French for a bit, eh oui.
Today is the winter solstice. Christmas aside this time of year has always seemed the most magical to me, the dark stillness, the cold and the turning back up into the light. There are so many fascinating threads of stories and myths that touch on the same themes and symbolism, festivals of light or Persephone in the underworld, the time of dormancy before life can again burst forth.
So when I was near ready to give birth at this time 27 years ago, it added a new layer on the personal plane. And when my son was little, having a child to share the magic was wonderful beyond imagining.
Now he is gone, and I am trying to keep hold of the original meaning, beauty and grace this season had for me, pre-pregnancy, pre-parenthood. Last year I did not put up a tree. The thought of decorating it, with all the ornaments we had collected as a family and many of which he hung year to year, is inconceivable. But I miss the scent, and the lights, so I am thinking of going to get a tree and stringing it with simply lights. It’s a step.
Grace is always amazing, just not always or even often in the ways we poor mortals would want to imagine it to be. My son is in my heart. Like George Bailey I have my Clarence to help save me from myself. Miracles and Christmas magic exist. Have to believe, in something better than ourselves. And if we hold ourselves in stillness, hold the dark and the light in equal measure and don’t flinch from either, we may have a shot at a bit of peace.