Blue Hour
The world has turned quite a few times since my last entry. I have a newfound respect for content managers across the web. It’s not easy filling space on a regular basis. No wonder there are so many meaningless re-treads of articles out there.
It’s a lot easier to talk out loud on the page when the focus is turned inward. Mine hasn’t been, particularly. The world has seemed huge and looming in a “darkness is rising” sort of way. Right after we returned from Italy, the US election took up all of my attention. Afterward, like all other election news junkies, I had a long “what now?” slump during which I had to re-adjust to a life without minute by minute news feeds. I still read the news, but try to avoid spin... which gives me one or two minutes a day of actual content. What to do with all that spare time? Not blogging, apparently. A little “creative writing.” Still working on the Star Wars fanfic, all the while wondering whether I’m just a dinosaur and should let it go already. But it’s the only thing I’ve really got going at the moment, and writing is always better than not-writing, so there we are. Star Wars it is. When I’ve reached a point where I’m sure the story will have an ending, I’ll probably begin to post.
I woke up the other morning with the feeling that the ground was crumbling beneath my feet - beneath all of our collective feet. You know that moment between waking and sleeping, when your not-quite-dreaming-but-not-quite-awake thoughts seem clearer than anything? That’s when I began to wonder whether the wish for change alone - the combined will and longing of millions across the globe - could actually bring it about. Change is what is happening right about now, and not by law or decree. By economic tsunami. Be careful what you wish for, they say. And so many of us wished so hard that things would be different. Well, they are.
Perhaps we should have been more specific.
A day doesn’t go by that I don’t find out about another friend or family member or acquaintance who has lost a job or had a lifetime’s savings wiped out. And yet no one is panicking yet; I suspect that the sense of unreality is still blanketing all of us. Will we still feel so hopeful six or twelve months down the line? Right now the stores are full and the holiday spirit seems not too dissimilar from years gone by. The ten-foot Christmas tree in my living room sparkles gloriously. British son has arrived on our shores, making the family complete, and for once, his dearest wish for a snowy Christmas looks as if it will come true. He and his brother have spent the last night and day snow tubing and shoveling and having a great old time. I’m cooking and hosting and wrapping presents and sipping sherry. The candles are lit. The Stollen is made. Friends are welcomed.
I don’t know about you, but this year, my sense of gratitude for every little pleasure and gift is heightened. And I give a lot more to charity.
It’s the “blue hour” of the evening. Everything outside is shades of pale blue to indigo. Inside, the lamps glow a warm yellow. One son is snoring away on a long winter’s nap. The other is playing chess with his father. I can hear the murmurs and the occasional click of a captured piece all the way up here in my study. My daughter is still in Boston, but will come soon. It’s warm and quiet in the house; cold and quiet outside.
I keep thinking about what it must be like to be homeless. I wish everyone in the world had a warm house like mine to come home to and a hot supper waiting.
... I wish. There it is again. Wishing.
(If you make a wish more specific, doesn’t that set it on its way to becoming a prayer?)
I wish you all a peaceful evening with a warm, yellow glow at the center.
It’s a lot easier to talk out loud on the page when the focus is turned inward. Mine hasn’t been, particularly. The world has seemed huge and looming in a “darkness is rising” sort of way. Right after we returned from Italy, the US election took up all of my attention. Afterward, like all other election news junkies, I had a long “what now?” slump during which I had to re-adjust to a life without minute by minute news feeds. I still read the news, but try to avoid spin... which gives me one or two minutes a day of actual content. What to do with all that spare time? Not blogging, apparently. A little “creative writing.” Still working on the Star Wars fanfic, all the while wondering whether I’m just a dinosaur and should let it go already. But it’s the only thing I’ve really got going at the moment, and writing is always better than not-writing, so there we are. Star Wars it is. When I’ve reached a point where I’m sure the story will have an ending, I’ll probably begin to post.
I woke up the other morning with the feeling that the ground was crumbling beneath my feet - beneath all of our collective feet. You know that moment between waking and sleeping, when your not-quite-dreaming-but-not-quite-awake thoughts seem clearer than anything? That’s when I began to wonder whether the wish for change alone - the combined will and longing of millions across the globe - could actually bring it about. Change is what is happening right about now, and not by law or decree. By economic tsunami. Be careful what you wish for, they say. And so many of us wished so hard that things would be different. Well, they are.
Perhaps we should have been more specific.
A day doesn’t go by that I don’t find out about another friend or family member or acquaintance who has lost a job or had a lifetime’s savings wiped out. And yet no one is panicking yet; I suspect that the sense of unreality is still blanketing all of us. Will we still feel so hopeful six or twelve months down the line? Right now the stores are full and the holiday spirit seems not too dissimilar from years gone by. The ten-foot Christmas tree in my living room sparkles gloriously. British son has arrived on our shores, making the family complete, and for once, his dearest wish for a snowy Christmas looks as if it will come true. He and his brother have spent the last night and day snow tubing and shoveling and having a great old time. I’m cooking and hosting and wrapping presents and sipping sherry. The candles are lit. The Stollen is made. Friends are welcomed.
I don’t know about you, but this year, my sense of gratitude for every little pleasure and gift is heightened. And I give a lot more to charity.
It’s the “blue hour” of the evening. Everything outside is shades of pale blue to indigo. Inside, the lamps glow a warm yellow. One son is snoring away on a long winter’s nap. The other is playing chess with his father. I can hear the murmurs and the occasional click of a captured piece all the way up here in my study. My daughter is still in Boston, but will come soon. It’s warm and quiet in the house; cold and quiet outside.
I keep thinking about what it must be like to be homeless. I wish everyone in the world had a warm house like mine to come home to and a hot supper waiting.
... I wish. There it is again. Wishing.
(If you make a wish more specific, doesn’t that set it on its way to becoming a prayer?)
I wish you all a peaceful evening with a warm, yellow glow at the center.