…I came here to try to write the sort of post I want to read at this time of the year. Instead, I look through photos from our Christmastide and listen to this over and over again. Not because of its words…tho’ some reach out to me…
“Early in the morning, our song shall rise to thee”
“earth and sky and sea”
“there is a sigh at the sight of thee”
…it is more the hushed, hopeful, expectant feeling of the music that speaks what my spirit would, if it could.
I turn the pages of my book as each of the Twelve Days arrives, watching the buds of the narcissus grow and swell, seemingly anxious to bloom…while I would gladly accept another week of watching and waiting, if it were offered to me.
There are some plans being made…or at least…pages to receive them being fashioned and readied. And when I find myself wishing (again!) for the extra week to “prepare,” I remember that my New Year will begin whenever it arrives within me.
Just like the Christmas spirit, which doesn’t always turn up when expected, my New Year often walks in the door weeks after the midnight I stand on our threshold, listening for the sounds of celebration coming across the fields.
I’ll leave you with my favorite New Year’s thoughts, and will be back over the weekend, when I dearly hope to have got a firmer grasp upon some of the plans and dreams I have for this place and all of my others and can share them with you.
“On New Year’s Eve I am at home to the Future. I wait to hear her ring the doorbell of the world.
I only do expectant things on this evening. I write a letter to an unknown person who has done something that I admire, a person whom I would like to know. I make two New Year resolutions, one rather idealistic, the other extremely practical. the former is more for special occasions; the latter is for rough, everyday use. “To stop accumulating bundles when I travel,” has been a very successful resolve of the latter type. Another in the same category I recommend highly, “When in small towns to use my mouth for purposes of food and ventilation only.”
There is no hurry on this evening. With much leisure I make preparation for the guest who is to come and for the gifts that she will bring. I set my house in order. There is always a keen sense of failure when I find that its appointments are so meager, its proportions so inadequate. I would have my house more in keeping with the royal character of my guest.
Before I am aware of her approach, a mighty shouting heralds her coming; I open the door. The gorgeous guest from afar sweeps in. In her hands are her gifts – the gift of hours and far-seeing moments, the gift of mornings and evenings, the gift of spring and summer, the gift of autumn and winter. She must have searched the heavens for boons so rare.
What happiness there is when I awake to find near me the gift of a Morning!”
Ceremonials of Common Days
With warm wishes and hope for us all that our arms and eyes and heart remain wide-open to receive all the gifts that come our way. You are one of mine…