New Year

A Happy New Year to all.

Light & Laughter

Creation & Openness

Warmth in Solitude

Peace in Friendship

aun Aprendo

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Valentine’s Day or Where’s my bullet proof vest

My daughter’s school was closed on Valentines Day because of snow. Which means she won’t be receiving any valentines from her class mates. Being Dad, it falls on me to get her the only valentine she will receive today. On the way home from work I stop at the store to do some shopping. I find a sweet little heart shaped balloon which will be worth more to her than all the gold in the world. Its cost is two dollars. So, at a quarter past five in the afternoon on Valentines day I buy an “I love you” balloon for two bucks at the supermarket. At sixteen past five in the afternoon on Valentines day I get the “I hope she kills you in your sleep” look from the cashier at the supermarket. Well at least I made my daughters day…

I’m such a puttz!

Winter Mood

It occurs to me that I lose touch with my Soul when I am away from it to long. This statement may sound obvious but the recent holidays and guests, however enjoyable, are far from routine. I am a creature of habit. I have working tolerances to my daily grind. When I exceed my specifications for a long duration problems arise. Namely, I become sullen and withdrawn. The so called Winter Mood. The time when I seem numbed from the loss of connectedness.

There are other times during the year when this malady can strike. Its onset requires a substantial diversion of focus from myself or inner peace (IP in Lady Sorrow terms). To hold the bond with my soul I must maintain a constant level of attentiveness towards it. Seemingly any lasting event can trigger the Mood. Though other than family vacation nothing seems to last long during Spring, Summer, and Fall. However, mid-November through mid-January are fraught with distraction. We all know what they are so I will not list them. Hence I suffer from a weakness of presence during this period.

Yet I know those who flourish in the season, reveling in the many chores. I notice that they act through a rehearsed plan from year to year. Apparently due to something called Tradition. They have slowly worked throughout the year towards these series of events. They then pique in the accomplishment of the multitude of labors. Labors that exceed the proportional load limit of stress during the time frame. Yet they truly feel gloom when it is all over and they must return to normal daily activities. Until next year of course.

Allow me to mention that I have celebrated this holiday period in a different fashion every year since the mid-eighties. I am unaccustomed to anything resembling tradition in dealing with the change of pace. Might I suffer from the disruption of Habit? Habit and tradition are different to me. The order that we dress ourselves each day may be considered habit. While eating Christmas dinner at two in the afternoon is more like a tradition. Many habits fall to the needs of the holiday season. Yet, as mentioned, since I’m without tradition I have only habit around which my day may be ordered. Can I then say that my gloom must come not from a departure OF tradition, as with those who plan for it, but a departure FROM tradition, as with someone who lives by habit.

What is it about tradition that helps us past the angst? I believe one facet of tradition is a possible mechanism for allowing us to behave outside of the norm. Tradition is a cultural positive and an accepted social pattern. Yet traditional activities are almost exclusively outside of normal daily behavior. Evident by a house normally occupied by two senior adults becoming billeted by the latter plus all their adult children, their children, the new baby, and 5 dogs; for two weeks. Where every transgression of protocol is dismissed as “hey it’s Christmas, we only do this once a year”. When under the umbrella of tradition are we not appeased by the alien actions & avalanching stress loads? Are we not permitted to call the unique, normal? Yes we are.

All of this begs the question. Can we assuage stress by planning chaos and making it traditional? This can, of course, lead one into the pitfall of expectations. The other landmine of the season. Yet if I spent the next eleven months planning for the holidays would I not centralize around prime activities. Though they would be odd for any other time of the year they could be a catalyst for focusing energy. The kind of energy that makes people smile instead of grit their teeth. If this is true then I should plan on starting a new tradition in the Polar house. Next year I myself will cut the Roast Beast; while wearing my Santa suit singing Deck the Halls and standing on my head. Did you catch that transition? I’m now anxious for next season to come. I had better start practicing.

I am sorry for making you read all of that just to hear me say, “Man is it hectic around the holidays”. The real reason for these statements is that this year my winter mood was dismissed after only a brief visit. Due mostly to the fact that I realized that my despair was caused by the acute absence of self. After that I had only to invite the awareness of my soul back into my house. Then “BAM” I was where I was before it had all started. I needed to understand my reaction to distraction on scales larger than daily habits allotted for. Once I did I was able to adjust for it.

Of course it will happen again next year if no changes are made. For how can I fully steel myself against these Yule usurpations of being? Considering the above I move towards a traditional remedy. Tradition. I will not create static plans but broad objectives instead. The Santa suit is a winner plus several more simple ones should do. These will not make the problems go away. If I can, however, perceive them as mere stepping stones towards my goals then I hope they will pass easily. Therefore allowing me a Silent Night.

Happy New Year

Wishing you all the best in 2008!

The Kitchen

An antique is
Old
UselessAnd showy
Serving no purpose
That is my aunt’s kitchen

Cooking here is minimal
But style is at a maximum
Old oak floors
And a tin ceiling hung with fans

Antique glass on each cupboard
Displays urns of hand dried
Noodles and herbs
Like a mausoleum

All of which clashes with the
Stainless steel
Digital
LED display
Of the most modern
Double oven

Framed in worm bored antique wood paneling

We are visiting, my wife and I
I am talking with my aunt
My wife goes to the kitchen
Looking for something to drink

She finds the fridge in a recessed corner
It is an old fridge
My aunt thinks it’s ugly
She hides it

My wife opens it
She does not see drinks
She does not see food
Only condiments
Ketchup can make anything taste good

What once was food is now
A governmental experiment
Wrapped in cellophane
Green, red, & brown
Frigid, toxic rainbow

Ten minutes later
My wife hands me my coat
Her stern eyes glare into mine
She says
“It’s time to go”

 

MISS HARLEY QUINN’S
Take on Her Kitchen
________________________

An Antique is
Old
Lovely
And full of memories
This is my kitchen

Cooking here is a constant
Style a vain hope
New sticky tab tile flooring
And an old ceiling with flourescent lighting.

A 23rd coat of paint on each cupboard
Keeping safe hand picked herbs
Like a magician’s hat

All of which comes together with
witch dolls on high
cats on counters
candles that flicker

If you were to visit, your wife and you
You’d have no room to gather or stand

If your wife went to the ever so small kitchen
Looking for something to drink

She coudn’t help but find the fridge
I think it serves its purpose
And it can’t hide

If your wife opened it
She would see drinks
She would see food
And condiments
Feta and truffle oil make everything grand

The food thats there,
made with love and care
Is kept in lead free containers just waiting to be enjoyed

Yummy, savory, a culinary rainbow.

10 minutes later
Your wife hands you her coat and says,
“Please hang this up…we’re staying to sup.”

This is my kitchen. 🙂

Giving Thanks to you.

Out at the Stone
The candles are lit
A man is meditating
Out at the Stone
Many thanks are given
For so many gifts received
Out at the Stone
Counted amongst the blessings
Are new Brothers & Sisters
Out at the Stone
Those stronger than distance
Always touching in words
Out at the Stone
The man stands to his feet
Walks into the woods
Out behind the Stone
The bonfire is lit
And the day begins