Holiday Happenings

Time for respite and rejuvenation of mind, body, and spirit
Needs that need money 
don’t allow for sickness, 
especially in detox for the unpleasantry of withdrawal.

Active addiction, like any illness, doesn’t take holidays.
Man or woman, wanting to be rid of addictions’s hook, uses holiday time as an opportunity.
Getting well ends one cycle before the Old Year cycles into the New Year.

“The greatest wealth is health.”

~ Virgil

An Answer for Why?

Why?
A good question for the curious.
Verbal fascination for the child beginning to explore the world.
An annoying question when it confronts a parent’s knowledge of the world.

Why is the sky blue?
Why does the moon look different tonight?
Why are there big people and little people?
Why are there cars and bicycles and buses and why don’t we all ride horses?

Why?
A child’s curiosity about the world opens with the first tiny curl of a newborn’s finger.
New young spirits expand as curiosity is answered and nurtured.
Questions and answers begin a dialogue with life and living in baby talk and baby steps.

“There is frequently more to be learned from the unexpected 

questions of a child than the discourses of men,……..”

~ John Locke

Hang'em High

From a light standard in a parking lot,
Santa faced a bank of windows.
The spirit of Christmas matched the spirit of romance!

“There is no charm equal to the tenderness of heart.”

~ Jane Austen

A Christmas Eve Memoriam

Dexter

I think that I knew that it would be a last good bye.

Last weekend, I put my head against Dexter's old black brow for a last time not knowing, but guessing, it would be a last time to feel such silky softness. 

From fluffy, busy puppy 14 years ago, to a handsome, grand old man, Dexter still had a playful spirit. While his heart was willing, his body suggested he pushed his limits!

A gentle and kind dog, he tolerated and welcomed new pups, and most other dogs - as long as they behaved.

Dexter, you will be missed by this ‘grandma’

“The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven not man’s.”

~ Mark Twain

Are You Ready for Christmas?

“Are you ready for Christmas yet?” If I heard that question once, I have heard it a thousand times in the last two weeks. We all hear it every year and it always conjures up images of shopping in noisy, busy malls filled with reels and reels of Christmas music and racks and shelves of abundance. Other images are of presents to be wrapped and cards to be addressed or e-sent, cluttered living rooms, Christmas trees and grocery shopping filling up the to-do lists. Those days are long gone. Lacking the patter of little feet - whether grandchildren or grand-dogs - shopping has dwindled and cards are practically non-existent. Checking the mail for Christmas cards is not longer a daily event. Admittedly, I have seldom written the traditional, for some, Christmas letter. My traditions, if one can call them that, are limited.

I have been an employee of some health care system for most of my adult life and many Christmas Eve and Day was spent at my place of employment. I am not alone in that part of life. Many employees, not just health care workers, but police, firemen and paramedics are only a few folks away from their families and at their places of employment. Finding spaces to have a bit of the flavour of Christmas, without feeling burned out from working, and shopping, and wrapping and…….well, you get the picture.

So, am I ready for Christmas? Yes, I do believe I am. Sunday I spent the day cooking my turkey, gravy and an array of vegetables. (I didn’t make dessert as desserts and chocolates are in abundance at work). Staff will be having a pot-luck supper at work on Christmas Eve. My contribution? An apple crisp with cranberries, caramels and chocolate chips. On Christmas Day, after work I am taking roasted potatoes and carrots with rosemary out to supper at a friend’s house. And the usual consequence of Christmas dinner? Leftovers for so many dishes that I love, including my little ‘frozen dinners’.

There are so many folks out there unable, for a host of reasons, to have an enjoyable Christmas or to be close to even one family member. Getting ready for Christmas is the farthest thing from their minds, but a tattered fragment of Christmas spirit may have a tiny corner of their hearts. Those of us that are scheduled to work at Christmas can maybe create a bit of Christmas inside the environment of our work places. And if there is great sadness or tragedy, some support and kindness where there may be none available.

“A lovely thing about Christmas is that it’s compulsory, 

like a thunderstorm, and we all go through it together.”

~ Garrison Keillow

Walking with Magic

Walking with Magic

Christmas music filtered through the air. Snow flakes fell silently. There was no reason for him to be out on the street after all the shops were closed, but Harold wanted to feel the silence when the shoppers had gone home. He wanted feel the calm that descended outside the streets and houses, only disturbed by the distant clop clop of a horse drawn carriage returning home.

His home was warm and the aroma of turkey and mince pie curled in the humid kitchen. His children were busy putting the finishing touches on the presents, hiding their work from each other. In the morning all their work would be torn apart in the noise and excitement of Christmas morning. His wife, busy with her own preparations, had shooed him out of the house, aware of Harold's Christmas Eve ritual.

Every Christmas Eve night, Harold would take this walk in the silent night. His reason, which he didn’t speak of, was to see if, just maybe, he would see Santa Claus fly across the moon or through the clouds. Yes, he was almost forty years old, but the magic and spirit of all the Christmases of his childhood had never left him. He had never ever seen Santa Claus except at malls, parades and Christmas pageants. Harold was always grateful to the people that donned the red and white, taking children on their knees and offering just a tiny bit of the magic. Yes, it was all staged and from the world of ‘just pretend’, but it was a bit of fantasy come to life.

Harold wrapped his long scarf around his neck and buttoned his coat a little tighter. He was now the one in the family to don the ‘red and white’ and be that Santa Claus of Christmas magic. A job he looked forward to every year, even if he didn’t have a sleigh and a team of flying reindeer.

After climbing the steps to his front door, he turned and took one last look up into the night sky. Snow had stopped falling. Clouds had shredded and opened up the sky. Tonight was now clear and star studded, the silver moon rode high, tossing diamonds into the fallen snow. Harold waved and hoped no one was watching. Smiling he returned to his family, closing the front door gently behind him.

“For in every adult there dwells the child that was, 

and in every child there lies the adult that will be.

~ John Connolly, The Book of Lost Things

Assignment ~ Essay on Expectations ~ Repost

Essay on Expectations

‘Expectations - realistic or unrealistic  - are woven into the fabric of our lives. Based on experiences all the way from childhood, information coming to us from trusted sources, and the immediacy of the events of a day………….’

Hmm....that sounded like a good start to her paper.  After school, Cara, 14 years old, finally sat down to write her essay for class - tomorrow’s class. It didn’t really matter, because she had never liked Mr. C. anyway.  Anything she did for his class was half-hearted at best. In the morning, her mother and father had been talking about expectations while they were all having breakfast. Actually they were complaining about Christmas and all the things they are supposed to do. Her dad complained about all the money that he had to spend. She guessed that they were arguing rather than talking. She remembered rolling her eyes at all their moaning and groaning.

“We did it this way in our family! And we always had a real tree - and not one from a lot. It’s all about the experience - you know family going out in the snow to cut down their tree, then coming home to hot chocolate and a fireplace...”  Her mom had got all misty eyed and trailed off so far she overflowed her coffee cup.  Another real eye roller.

“Well, we did it this way in our family, and it always worked out. Would you please get in touch with reality! Forget a real tree, even one from a lot. The fake one we got last year with all the lights already on it is just fine. When all the living room lights are off you can’t even tell it’s not real. And besides that think of the trees that get saved!”

“What about all the fuel it takes just to make all your old fake trees! David Suzuki must have some research on that. And a real tree can be chopped up for firewood - at least it could if we had a fireplace - and all those needles would be good mulch. I have to look that up to make sure, though.”

“Getting all that fuel keeps a lot of folks in jobs. And what about all the presents you think we need to get for the kids. They expect more and more every year. For heaven’s sake they’re teenagers! They don’t even believe in Santa Claus anymore and you want us to go through all the drama that comes with it?”

“But they expect to have ‘all that drama’! There wouldn’t be any Christmas spirit without it! Oh heavens, do we have to have this same discussion every single year?”

“Honey, do you remember how we always sort it out?” Her dad's voice smiled at her mom. Weird.

“Hush, dear. It’s a good thing that Michael has already left for school, but Cara might be listening. Can we discuss it in more detail this upstairs this afternoon?”

Cara, a master of thumb typing had been quietly and under the table, writing the opening line to her essay on her cell phone while the two of them argued. Rolling her eyes one more time, she went off to meet her girlfriend, before she got so dizzy she couldn’t walk. The rest of the essay could wait til after school.

“Does your reality match your expectations? If not it’s time

to change either your expectations or your reality.”

~ Steven Redhead, The Solution

Control

Blindsided

Suspicion coiled inside

Anxious explosion threatened

Breathing, Pacing, Breathing, Pacing

Focus vanished

Thoughts lying to spirit

Bubbling, spewing…forehead creased

Breathing, pacing, breathing, pacing

Brain cleared

Focus regained

Explosion thwarted - this time

Breathing slowed, pacing stopped…...sleep.

“You can’t control all the crazy stuff that happens to you.

All you can control is the way you handle it.”

~ Amy Lee