the pelican

once more with feeling

night and day

this morning, it was all about the sunrise.

turned off the lights in the kitchen just to bask in the pinky orange glow. couldn't read the paper but you know that's a good thing now and then. just the sunrise and a cup of tea and a purring kitty.

drive to work was magnificent. clouds of a million colors. sun lighting up the mountains. the flatirons stood out like bright red hands waving palms facing out saying fear not fear not fear not.

everybody at work said wow did you see that sunrise this morning did you see the mountains they were violet and green and gold and orange and yeah she said it woke my boyfriend up while i was getting ready he woke up to look around and say the room was full of color and oh my said betty the bookkeeper the lord painted the sky this morning and we sat outside on the patio with our coffee just to feel the colors and man said one of the attorneys i darn near drove right off the road looking east to the clouds and the sunrise and west to the mountains and it was too much all too much and everybody said wow did you see that sunrise this morning it was magnificent.

last night was so dark. dark dark dark. the dark night of a short dark day.

and yesterday tempers flared and tears flowed and deadlines were demanding and people had reactions to shots and dogs had kennel flu and clients were screaming and traffic was terrible and settlement conferences were not productive and court clerks were pissy and the building says we can't have a real live wreath because it's a fire hazard and bitchy office politics and jealousies and snipey comments and blame and nobody really wants to have to deal with any of it really we all just want to go home and oh 'tis the season.

'tis the season for a meltdown.

see, there's all this stuff going on. list making function in the head running full tilt. end of year stuff. at work it's the deadlines. initial disclosures to be filed. trials to be set. depositions scheduled. short weeks with days off and office parties to attend only means more work has to somehow be crammed into the narrow slice of time available.

meanwhile, let's face it, it's freaking christmas.

family stuff and presents and want to get the right thing want to make everybody happy want to make it feel real and heartfelt want to really give something of meaning not just over spend and consume and not feel obligated but do anyway at times and there's too much to think about too much to accomplish and have to make fiddly appetizers of phylo cilantro red pepper ricotta triangles for the office staff ornament exchange and make the reservations for the firm luncheon and keep track of all the fruit and nuts and boxes of candy and cookies to send out all the appropriate thank yous and remember to get recycled wrapping paper at the humane society and everybody's got travel plans and packing and packaging and mailing and cards and postage stamps and got to dig out that vest with the red and green and psychedelic velvet patches and tip the newspaper guy and make cookies and pick up the keyboard for my nephew at the music store and oh man the car needs washed and the cat's got scabs on his chin and and and

meanwhile there's this nostalgia element going, and it's not always a good thing. so many things. those ghosts of christmas past that haunt and hover and squeeze the tears out of you like so many drops of soul to be extracted by force in the darkness.

childhood memories of starting each christmas season full of hope believing that it was supposed to be magic supposed to be special supposed to have santa and this sense that everyone is having a happy time but you know at your house you're going to be spending it panicked about how much drinking is going on and how to deal with all the additional trauma and drama associated with the inevitable messy embarrassing or insulting or critical or abusive internal as well as external social disaster and ordeal with extra high emotion turned up full blast and it all looks like there is nothing happy about the holidays or if there is it's happening somewhere else somewhere behind frosted windows full of decorations that belong to the other houses with families inside drinking eggnog and laughing and singing christmas carols together.

there is such a loneliness. such an awareness of the dark side. an all pervading black cloud of doom and gloom and cold winter ahead. a sense of great isolation despite being surrounded by people. sometimes it rings so hollow, feels so forced, so obligated, so plastic, so disposal, so commercial, so wasteful, so all consuming over consuming over the top over the edge downward spiral into the black pit of despair and meaningless materialism. so easy so very easy so natural perhaps even semi-cathartic to drop into the black hole of self pity it just pulls and pulls and swallows you up and there's no going back no undoing the past no way to fix things no may to make it better oh woe is me oh of course dad had to die at christmas had to die had to leave us there with all this unfinished business all this unresolved unhappiness just have to have a funeral to put the final bow on the whole crumbled package that you just can not get the edges right on no matter how many times you try to fold it and sticking a bow on it just looks utterly inappropriate only draws attention to the underlying mess that lies beneath more than half my life ago that's been rehashed and reheated so many times it's turned into some strange over-cooked inedible gunk glued to the bottom of the pan that no amount of brillo pads can scrub clean.

yeah so it's extreme. probably why we light it up i guess. the solstice that is. the celebration of the darkness. the lighting of candles. colored lights. shiny tinsel and glass to reflect light add light more light more light we need more light now it will come again remember remember it will come again be glad we're here be glad we're together we made it through another year let's have a party a big party a feast let's huddle together to stay warm and light a big fire and eat up everything that's going to spoil from the harvest and light it up light it up light it up because man oh man we got january and february to get through people and you know it's going to be long and dark and cold cold cold so be glad we're together let's turn on the lights and the thing about long dark nights is that you can see the stars so much better it's all a matter of contrast we see only understand it in terms of extremes and this is the edge this is the time this is the shortest day the longest night the biggest chunk of darkness so light another candle and look up at the sky and rejoice.

and then there was this morning.

because this morning it was all about the sunrise and the color and beauty of the light and the depth of the dark and the brightness of the light and the spectrum the rainbow the full palette the 64 crayon box of everything in between.

yeah this morning it was all about the sunrise.

posted by: limine at 00:26 | link | comments (6) |

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