60: (December 2021)
I always enjoy gathering myself in to take stock of all the gifts in my life around this time of year. It’s probably more important than ever to do it this year, as world events conspire to make it all too easy to forget that despite the turmoil, there is much to be grateful for. Here’s what comes up for me:
- The first real snow. The quiet of the surrounding forest, the beauty of the fields as they gradually turn from shades of straw and brown to clean, pure white. The special feeling of coziness I feel as I sip a steaming hot cup of cocoa and observe the whitening world.
- Grandchildren. Sweet, joyful little beings who giggle and play with abandon, too young to be distracted by politics or pandemics. So young that I find myself absorbed into their innocent realities of love and safety — such a precious place to be.
- Friends. Friends who call or Zoom or go for walks on wooded roads. Friends who are always there, connected through the heart. Friendships that are woven into the fabric of my life. Lifelines.
- Access to health care and Covid vaccinations that were developed by people who worked with a fierce intensity to create them. Selfless healthcare workers and volunteers who administer them to countless people, many who may be frightened or hesitant to get the vaccination but do so anyway in order to help contain the pandemic and curb the death toll.
- Work that is satisfying on a soul level. Having a job working in support of people who help connect people of all ages to nature and who help protect wildlife and our beautiful earth is a privilege.
- Family. My enormous fortune to have people I love, admire, and respect who live in my heart each and every day. The physical distances between us are irrelevant; my heart is in a permanent state of overflow!
- Faith. A belief that there is more to life than what is seen and experienced with our senses. An openness to mystery.
Let the New Year begin.
40: (December 2001)
This year we had a Charlie Brown Christmas tree. It was 12 feet tall and had a total of 16 branches. Its midsection was so bare that two branches had to be cut from the bottom and then inserted into drilled holes about halfway up the trunk in order to simulate a viable tree. The long, gangly branches extended halfway into the room, their spindly tips already bare of needles. One branch had 15 ornaments lined up shoulder to shoulder; with few branches to work with, every inch had to be utilized to its maximum capacity. Half of the tree had no branches at all, so we strategically angled it in a corner, hoping that the lights would fill in the blank space and create the illusion of fullness. It was my children’s favorite tree ever.
My older daughter had rescued the tree from a construction disposal site on our property. The tree had been destined for the dump, along with other rag-tag trees cut down to make room for our new barn. She dragged it across the yard and placed its trunk in a bucket of water, which she kept full for six or seven weeks. She had Christmas on her mind all the while.
Initially, I resisted my children’s entreaties to having this tree in our home in the honored position of “Christmas” tree. What would Martha Stewart think? Yet, there was virtually no chance she would show up for a holiday bash. Besides, I was not having one. I had to discard my preconceived notion of what a beautiful Christmas tree was, in order to open myself to seeing this tree’s beauty, and to allow my children to haul it into the house.
Beauty is a concept that is, in fact, subjective. But in our culture, we tend to think it is an objective measure: perfect bodies, all size eight, health and youth, manicured lawns. Yet beauty actually resides in the heart’s perception. Everything holds the possibility, the potential to be beautiful, yet nothing is beautiful unless we see it with our inner eye. Do we see beauty in the wrinkled face of an old woman, in a disabled boy’s body? Do we see it in our struggling, fragile world? It is the love we either bring to something or don’t that unveils its true worth.
My Christmas tree lost a large percentage of its needles by Christmas day. And it was beautiful.
60-40:
May the world become a little kinder in 2022. May we all learn to care for each other’s welfare just a bit more. To open our hearts wider, to love deeper. To learn how to weather what storms may come with courage, and to view the world with eyes that are grateful for all we have been given and with hearts that are willing to share.
Here is a link to a little song on kindness that I wrote some years ago.
May the world be kind to you!
60-40 