Week 5: Birthing

Birthing the new year.
  My mother's death.
     New beginnings for myself.

What doors will I open this year?
Which ones will I peek through and slam shut? Which ones open with joy?

Where will they take me, with trepidation, fear, excitement, wonder?

What new thing is coming? What is coming around again?

Week Three: Preparing a Space

For me this week, the struggle is for both space and time. I've worked 7 days out of the past 8, and have one more to go before leaving Milo & heading north for Christmas with family.. And I face 6 more days of work after I return to Atlanta on Christmas Day.

The tools I know are taking some time in the morning (when I can get out of bed early enough) to do some journaling, some meditation, and, if I'm lucky, some drawing or some yoga. Sometimes a walk at work helps.

And some days, I just stumble through as best I can. Some days I want to scream, who is making space for me? Who is preparing my way?

Week two: Desire

Huh? That was my initial reaction to this week’s theme: Desire.

But when I framed the question, “How are the holidays about desire?” it got easier. There are the ubiquitous ads – this toy will make your child happy, these tires will keep your family safe, this brand of turkey is just like grandma’s . . . And this year, we should all spend money to make the economy better, an outcome we fervently hope for.

Now, buying things can be a way to meet our needs – a way to demonstrate our love, an attempt to provide security. But it’s tricky. Because buying something is simple and concrete, and sometimes becomes a substitute for understanding what it is we want and how to reach out for what we need.

Which leads me to a multitude of questions: How is advent about desire? In this season of waiting and hoping, what do I dream of, long for? Who calls out to me? Where do my desires and hopes spring from? Are they healthy? Do they lead me toward wholeness?

How about you? What do you want for Christmas this year?

Tripping through the holidays

One of the scary night places in my life right now is the fact that my mother has entered hospice. She's not going to be dying (I hope) in the immediate future, but the end of her life with us is too close for my comfort.

The snapshot to the left (and the one below) are of collages I did recently about my feelings and thoughts about this process.

I'm grateful I have company on this journey, especially the company of my siblings and my dad and three friends who have already been through the death of their parents.

Ultimate: This is the last "trip" my family of origin will take - both parents and all four kids - together. "Trip" is of course metaphorical, but seems ironically appropriate here.

As I bear witness to my mother's life and death

the joker in the middle is Parkinson's and all the things the medical & insurance industry can and can't do. Some days I feel like a little girl again, saying "Mommy don't go!" as she walks out the door to work. Other days I am grateful for her presence, and can truly say the prayer on the heart in the upper left hand corner, "Bless us O Lord, and these thy gifts which we are about to receive."

Dark Through Light

Thanks to the Academy of American Poets, I ran across Pierre Joris' poem Altars of Light today. I've quoted a snippet below. The full poem is here.

light on light is blind
   dark on dark is blind

   light through dark is not

   dark through light is movement
   dark through light becomes,
is becoming,

Week One: Darkness

Sunday the temperature was in the 60s (15-18 C) and the sun shone most of the day. I spent about an hour outside in the late afternoon and couldn't belive it was still light at 5 pm when I headed off to get groceries. But yes, the nights are getting longer as we get closer to the longest night of the year.

Darkness, I think, is a tricky concept. Many of us were afraid of the dark as children, and darkness and night are often used as symbols of the unknown and of fear and evil. And when it's dark, it's hard to see anything - where it's safe to walk, who is in the room with us, what is making noise in the distance . . .

And yet, night is also when the moon and stars are visible. Plants need light to grow, but they also need roots in the darkness of the earth to hold them in place and nourish them. And food would be less tasty if it weren't for onions and garlic, which we harvest from the dark underground.

So I'm paying attention to darkness this week, both its fearful and its wonderful qualities.

Welcome!

Welcome to my Advent/Christmas blog for 2012/2013.

I find the Advent/Christmas season a mixed blessing as parties and gift giving and travel to see family provide fun  - and also stress. This year to help keep me centered I'm using Jan L. Richardson's Night Visions: searching the shadows of advent and christmas as a guide. Weekly themes are from this book. The title for Richardon's book comes from a song by Suzanne Vega. And the title for this blog comes from the title song on Mary Chapin Carpenter's Christmas album (Come Darkness, Come Light: Twelve Songs of Christmas).

    Feel free to follow along, and comment if you wish.