Two days before Christmas, a.k.a. Friday.

Three of my favourite people on PEI

It is two days before Christmas, also known as Friday. I am curled up with a duvet, mug of chamomile tea, cinnamon raisin toast with almond butter on it, and lots of pillows. I am having a pampered day that began with an exceptionally long shower, a deep-tissue massage by my friend Rick Schneider with Alpha Concepts Massage and Bodywork (heavenly), and lunch with my mother. After lunch I went to pick up a new novel that was waiting for me at the library, Someone Knows My Name (will let you know how it is), and then came home to curl up and write my blog entry.

All around me the world is in a Christmas preparation tizzy. The traffic is insane. It takes over an hour to get to places that I can usually reach in twenty minutes. Shoppers are out in full-force. It always feels a little odd to not have plans at Christmas time. When my grandparents were alive we used to get a Christmas tree because they were Christian, but now my mom gets a new door wreath every December. In comparison with most of the other houses on our street a door wreath just doesn't cut it, but trying to convince my mother that we should put Christmas lights in our windows would take 'til at least mid-February, so I am learning to content myself with the wreath.

My life this past week has been entirely focused on work and saving up for my last-minute upcoming trip to Prince Edward Island. I am really looking forward to my trip, and to getting to spend some quality time with some of my favourite people in the whole world. I have favourite people all over the world, but the highest concentration of them are on a little island in Atlantic Canada, which just goes to show that cold climates really do nurture warm hearts. The idea of being in Prince Edward Island with some of my closest friends for two weeks makes me so happy I can barely type. The fact that visiting PEI is the highlight of my holiday season throws my celebrations slightly out of sync with pretty nearly everyone around me, but to be honest I'm perfectly fine with that. This Christmas weekend will be a mellow one in our house. I am imagining lots of tea, maybe a meal out, a movie, games, dessert....more tea. You get the picture. There will be no present-exchange in our home. Being Baha'is, exchanging gifts at Christmas is not part of our tradition. But we will say some prayers to commemorate the birth of Christ, and join in what is, to me, the most important part of this holiday--quality time with family.

Wherever you are, and whatever you are up to this holiday season, I hope you are having a brilliant time! Happy two days before Christmas, friends!

Listening to poetry

 

I am heading off to hear Mary Oliver read her poetry in Santa Rosa tomorrow, so thought I would end the week by sharing two of her poems. Mary Oliver is an incredible writer who has redefined our relationship to the natural world over and over again through her poetry. If you have not read her poetry before, I encourage you to google her, or go check some of her poetry out at your local library so you can hold its weight on the page between your palms as you read it. 

 

Whatever you do this weekend, I hope it includes moments of poetry, and the crisp beauty of the of Fall! Have a great weekend, friends!  

 

The Journey, by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice--

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do--

determined to save

the only life you could save.

Sleeping in the Forest, by Mary Oliver

I thought the earth remembered me,

she took me back so tenderly,

arranging her dark skirts, her pockets

full of lichens and seeds.

I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,

nothing between me and the white fire of the stars

but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths

among the branches of the perfect trees.

All night I heard the small kingdoms

breathing around me, the insects,

and the birds who do their work in the darkness.

All night I rose and fell, as if in water,

grappling with a luminous doom. By morning

I had vanished at least a dozen times

into something better.

In search of poetry

Yesterday I drove down to Danville to hear Jane Hirshfield read her poetry. I didn't want to get stuck in traffic so I left really early and had a few hours to spare before the reading. I don't know if you have ever been to Danville, but it is super cute. Lots of little shops and restaurants, salons and even an equestrian shop on the main street I didn't get shots of everything, but I managed to snap a few before the sun got too low on the horizon.

I especially loved the little shops with funky names -- like "Snicker Doodle" (below), and the traditional barber shop with the red and blue striped sign outside, just like when I was a kid.

I had dinner in a superb restaurant called "Sideboard" that made hot chocolate using house-made chocolate and their own, in-house marshmallows. My spinach salad had fresh blueberries and strawberries scattered generously through it, and was topped with feta. The dressing was vanilla pear vinaigrette, and when I asked for salt, my waiter brought hand-ground pink Himalayan salt crystals to my table.

I also came across this very interesting looking building that had a sign on it saying it was a hotel, but it did not look to be used much....although there were odd curtain-looking things hanging in the back windows of what seemed to be an abandoned building. Kind of eerie, to be honest.

You can see the curtains better up close.

And this door, on the ground floor, caught my attention. Beautiful, isn't it?

I finally meandered over to the reading, helped set up the chairs, and got myself a seat in the front row. There were only maybe 15 or 20 of us there, which created a very intimate atmosphere. I got to ask her how to finally master line breaks in my poetry (her answer: practice, practice, practice -- and think of it as music), and I was immersed in the world of presence, silence and the precision of words placed just so by a hand and mind that has been perfecting the skill of crafting poetry for a very long time.

I drove home late at night with the lights of traffic red and white against the blackness feeling immensely blessed to have gotten to heard Jane read. There are few things quite as inspiring to a poet as listening to a fellow poet who has spent years mastering the craft of stringing words together just so, to form a poem. Jane has certainly done that, over and over, and her new book, Come, Thief is a tender, deep collection that invites the reader to draw closer and listen with a greater degree of attention, to the world around us, and our own hearts.

It is late now. Tomorrow morning I have to be up early and out on the Soil Born Farm working with a group of second graders that are coming out on a field trip. I cannot wait! I hope you have a superb Thursday, friends! See you here Friday before another long, glorious weekend!