Cafe Writing -Seven Magical Things

That’s the thing with magic. You’ve got to know it’s still here, all around us, or it just stays invisible for you.~Charles DeLint

 Cafe Writing's Holiday Project, Option One, asks us to consider seven magical things.  Since I'm just about in the mood for making a list (and of course checking it twice), here are my magical seven...

  1.  This fellow defines the word at our house.    2-february-crop4Since he came to live with us six years ago, we've laughed more, walked more, played more, snuggled more, and felt all 'round happier than I can remember feeling in a long time.  Of course, his sister Molly just expands the Magic even more;
  2. Right now I'm sprawled in a comfy lawn chair, bare feet propped on the ottoman and a cold glass of lemondade sweating profusely beside me.  In about five hours, however, I'll be scraping a couple of inches of ice off my windshield, and wrapping a scarf tightly around my face to guard against the biting wind.  Airplanes are definitely a magical way to travel.  But I'm still waiting for the tranporter to arrive...beam me up, Scotty;
  3. Peppermint mochas at Starbucks...starting December 1, I crave them morning, noon, and night.  They make me feel all glowy and good, inside and out;
  4. No matter how scroogy I've been for the month of December (and I channel Ebeneezer very well), the Candlelight Christmas Eve service at church turns me to mush.  Something about the progression of lighting candles, joining hands with all my friends, and singing Silent Night as the flames illuminate our faces always gives me a frisson of hope that perhaps life will turn out okay after all;
  5. And speaking of Silent Night...music sets the mood for the season, and I feel especially blessed to be able to share the gift of music in performance for others.  I played a holiday concert with my bell group at the Ann Arbor Library last weekend, and the response was phenomenal.  So many smiling faces in the audience, and excited children coming up to see the bells up close and even ask for autographs!  It reminded me of the entrancing power of music;
  6. Reading is always magical for me, but reading by the light of my Christmas tree really helps me transcend the dull realities of everyday life and enter into my favorite fictional worlds;
  7. The power of positive thinking~I've seen it at work in my life, and I'm putting it to the test again in a mighty big way these days.

How about you?  What's making magic in your life this holiday season?

Hope

I've just come from reading my friend Melissa's  letter to Santa, and a most appropriate (if unconventional) letter it is.  She's asking for some highly valuable gifts this year, gifts like Peace...Tolerance...Respect...some very big ticket items from the emotional virtues department.  This paragraph really hit home for me:

Speaking of anger…we all seem to be kind of bitchy and angry far too much of the time. This level of stress has become pervasive, Santa, and it’s not good. In times of economic disaster, we need to be calm, we need to be supportive, and we need to have hope. So, add HOPE to my list, please, because it never goes out of style.

Ah, I thought. So it isn't just me (and the people around me) who seem so cranky and out of sorts these days.  Seems everyone I talk to has a tale of woe to tell.  Of course Detroit is obviously not the happiest place on earth these days.  Our very economic existence is hanging by a thread, one being stretched quite thin by a group of lawmakers in Washington.  There isn't anyone I know in this city -this state -this country - who wouldn't be hurt in some way by the demise of the automotive industry.

No one. 

After all, when an automotive worker loses her job, she won't be getting her hair done, or going out to eat, or to the movies, or concerts, or perhaps even taking her kids to the doctor.  She certainly won't be buying big ticket items like appliances or furniture, won't be taking any trips or visiting any museums.  She won't be able to donate to her favorite charities.  Every one of those businesses will suffer, and then they too will have to close, creating even more unemployed people who won't be doing any of those things.

It's called the trickle down effect, but in this case, it's more like a tsunami.

Melissa's right though, when she says that "HOPE never goes out of style."   One of my favorite Emily Dickinson poems describes the essence of this feeling that springs eternal~

Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune--without the words, And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.

"Yet, never, in extremity...It asked a crumb of me."  It's rare to get something for nothing these days, isn't it?  But Hope is free, and if you can embrace the idea of it, the grace-fullness of it, there's nothing you need give in return. 

Simply have faith in the power of possibility.

Last week I wrote about Belief.   I'm still working on that one, still spinning those strands of belief into the image of a beautiful reality. 

Now I'm adding Hope, for the possibility of a brighter future, for the light at the end of a long dark tunnel.  Hope for all the struggling families and businesses, hope for those whose hearts are heavy and fearful.  Hope for people who seem to have it all, but whose lives are really  meaningless.  Hope to stave off the waves of grief and sadness that sometimes threaten to wash us away.

Hope for a happy Christmas for all.

How about you?  What are your fondest hopes this holiday?

Sunday Scribblings ~ Tradition

December, 1960, I'm sitting on the floor in our living room, my back pressed against the wall next to the fragrant evergreen tree dripping with silvery tinsel and glittering with multi colored lights.  My short legs extend before me, the red corduroy pant legs slightly worn at the knee.  My feet are shoeless as usual, encased only in the white anklets I wear every day.  Beside me lies Ginger, our placid little spaniel, snoring peacefully.  On my lap - a book. December 1970, I'm lying on the floor in our living room, my head underneath the silver branches of our aluminum Christmas tree, beside me the color wheel whirring relentlessly, casting its red/blue/green/orange glow on the walls of our darkened living room.  My bell- bottomed Levi's cover all but the tips of fuzzy red slipper socks.  Beside me, our plump cocker spaniel, Honey, keeps a vigilant eye on the kitchen.  Open before me - a book.

December 2008,  I'm curled into the corner of a large overstuffed chair.  The house is dark, save for the warm lights on the small decorated Christmas tree atop the table beside me.  Candles illuminate the mantel, dressed with garlands of greenery and my collection of angel ornaments and figurines.  Beside me lies Magic, my ever vigilant and over protective shih-tzu, while his sister Molly dozes contentedly on the ottoman at my feet.  On my lap - a book.

It would seem my most vivid Christmas memories have virtually nothing to do with gifts or parties, but with the aura of peace and contentment surrounding my reading rituals under the Christmas tree. Reading by "tree - light" is one of my oldest personal "traditions," one that began when I was barely old enough to hold a book, and I suspect the "reading" was simply a recollection of words that were read to my by doting parents and grandparents.   But I eventually became a ravenous reader for real, and the tradition grew to include certain volumes which must be read every Christmas.  My signature was scrawled on the library card for  Little Men, Louisa May Alcott's sequel to her famous story of the March sisters, every year from 1964 to 1969.  There was a biography of Isadora Duncan in our school library that was also a must read every December.  And an illustrated rendering of The Nutcracker also came home with me each year for Christmas tree reading.  And I re-read each volume of Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House books that I owned, in anticipation of the new one I would receive as a gift from my cousin Cora.

My parents would likely be surprised to know how deeply ingrained these memories have become, how every year I recall those rooms and those times when I was surrounded by the warm, comforting glow of white lights and evergreen branches, where I could escape into the world of my favorite books and live a fantasy life for just a little while.  Of course the Barbie Dream House and Easy Bake Oven made a fleeting impression.   And the purple sting ray bike was rather nice.  But the world of books and the power of reading is everlasting, and has grown rather than diminished with age.

There's no way to predict which traditions our children will recall most fondly, which will become cornerstones of their existence.  Perhaps it will be the family gatherings with Grandma's famous chocolate cake and caramel frosting, or placing cookies and milk on the table for Santa each Christmas Eve.  Maybe the music you play on the stereo while decorating the tree, or the annual drive through the most fabulously decorated neighborhoods in your hometown.

Or maybe it will be the tradition they create for themselves, the special moments they spend in the comfort of their own presence, doing something that brings a sense of peace and fulfillment to their life.

How about you?  Do you have a favorite holiday tradition that belongs to only you?

For Sunday Scribblings

Getting Physical

One of the things I most hate about winter is the way it curbs my ability to be active.  I'm not a terribly physical person - I don't play sports, or belong to a gym.  I do love walking my dogs and riding my bike, and the cold winds and icy pavements of winter have already put quite a damper on my ability to do either one.  Consequently, my body feels lumpish and stiff.  There's a restlessness in my legs about seven in the evening (the time we take our after dinner walks in the summer). My chest feels heavy, as if the oxygen circulating through my heart has thickened.  And there's a corresponding sluggishness in my mind as well.  After a good walk, I'm always energized, my thoughts buzzing with subjects to write about.  When I sit too much, even if I'm sitting at my keyboard, I can feel my creative brain going into sleep mode.

I suppose I could invest in a treadmill, or go off to the mall and walk laps.  But for me, atmosphere is important...I like being outdoors, hearing the birds singing and the leaves crunching under my feet, feeling the wind in my hair. 

I've just started reading Fruitflesh, by Gayle Brandeis, a really lovely inspirational book for women who write.  Brandeis wants to "help other writers tap into the vast, luscious creativity that simmers inside all our bodies."  The inspirational essays in the book encourage the reader to focus attention on the body the soma, "the place where body and mind and spirit have no dimension."

Our bodies are the repository for all our experiences, all our emotions, all our truest stories.  We can capture our own wholeness, our own integrity on the page when we allow our fruitflesh to speak."

The idea of body/mind connection isn't new.  Back in the late 1930's when Dorothea Brande wrote her classic Becoming A Writer, she too advocated for regular "moving meditations," as she called them.  The morning walk to set the spirit and the imagination humming. 

"Bodies are not nouns," Brandeis writes. "They're verbs."

Yesterday I was reading Andi's post in which she talked a bit about the dreams she has for the new life experience she's about to embark upon.  "One of the things that I’ve always wanted to do at my home," she wrote, "is have a place for artists and others to come and find respite and sustenance. Part of that dream involves having house concerts and courses - yoga, writing, music - for people who need a quiet place to experience these things."

Isn't that a wonderful idea? Incorporating the disciplines of mind and body -  writing, music, yoga - to enrich the experience of all?  I'm beginning to realize the importance of working in harmony with all aspects of the self, and keeping my physical body in a state of healthy mobility is an integral part of maintaining that essential balance.

So, how about you?  Do you find that physical activity inspires your creativity?  What's works best for you - walking, running, dancing, kickboxing?  How do you get in touch with your body, and use that awareness to inform your writing?  How do you keep your body and mind in balance?