So Here I am...not actually being abducted by aliens in the middle of the Siberian wastes, but strolling through my neighborhood after a concert. I went to hear the Rose Ensemble sing carols from Elizabethan England. I made friends with the woman who sat next to me. She was somewhere between my mother and my grandmother in age, and she agreed the sound of music from the 16th century was transporting and just the right thing to do during this Solstice season.
For some reason the carols that moved me the most were those tunes that were cradle songs for the infant Christ. I think they do well to convey the hope and peace that is forgotten in the rush of Life this time of year. It's the solstice today, so I've been thinking about darkness and light. The long dark is peaceful and deep, but can also be oppressive. On the other side of the longest night, there is lengthening day, hope that everything that now sleeps will bloom again, and I feel that my mind understands that cycle well.
The church I grew up in always included a call and response portion of their Christmas Eve service; the responses were all things like "And celebrate a new birth of hope/light in our lives." There's a reason I always enjoyed going to these services, even when I didn't give a fig for Christian dogma. Christmas is one of the only times they really get it.
In one of my fictional worlds, Longest Night is the most contemplative of holy days. It is a time of fasting, meditations and visions, followed by the second biggest party of the year. I gave it that significance because that is what our solstice holidays should be. It's also very reminiscent of the Christmas Eve/Christmas structure my life had when I was little. Christmas Eve was for going to candlelight service, viewing Christmas lights in the city and opening presents as a family. Christmas Day was a day of excess...food from the moment of waking up. Cookies for breakfast if we wanted (within reason), and then Grandma and Grandpa's house...where we could bounce of the walls and eat more. (I can smell the ham and cloves now.)
Anyway...I realized that I felt absolutely nothing for the upcoming holiday week, and that needed to change. I took it upon myself to become both contemplative and festive. The music was wonderful. I met a kindred spirit from another generation (always a blessing), and the winter night was wonderful for light-gazing.
The iPhone doesn't do so well with evening pics, but here are a few...
This is the church ceiling. I kept looking at it. The upside-down boat structure is even more pronounced in this church than in most I've attended, and the whole building is really designed to draw the eye upward. I kind of like it, even if it does have that most-Catholic of icons: Christ suspended on the cross, flanked by his sainted parents. (I've never been a fan of the crucified. I like empty crosses in my churches, thank you. I am, at least, that Protestant.)
This doesn't capture the radiance of the light coming through the snow at all, but it's still cool.
These are the footprints of Duke the Newf-Bernard who lives across the street from me. He's a gentle giant, and the quiet of his snowed-over footprints struck me as significant.
Markers leading up to a jolly holiday gathering.
One of my favorite local trees. It's enormous. Someday, I'm going to catch people in the act of putting lights on one of these monsters. Do people really hire bucket trucks?
I flopped into the snow underneath the great big tree to see what multi-colored stars look like. I walked home and decorated my own little tree. I hope people driving by are cheered by it.
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