It’s one of those Christmases…Isn’t it?
There is a weight, a sadness, a ‘I just can’t get that ‘raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens’ thing going.
And it’s everywhere. I am hearing it from everyone, everywhere.
Am I right or am I right?
This is tough, this year.
I can’t find the joy. I can’t find the lighthearted-ness.
But it’s not just that I can’t find Christmas.
The wall fell down.
The dog can’t jump.
Not as much work as there was supposed to be
My health insurance quintupled
My friend’s mother died
94 degree Thanksgiving
Christmas visit postponed
Cheap seats sold out
Furnace won’t come on
Lamp part is wrong
My crazy one-eyed limping dog
The bulb is out in the 9’ inflatable husky
My experiment in ‘search for self’ may be failing
I picked a helluva time to stop drinking.
Even as I write, I am sitting in my what-used-to-be-serene backyard, taking in my serene mountain view and all I can hear is, “K-LOVE 107.5 FM Lo más romántico en Los Ángeles!” It’s coming from the radio of the guys painting my neighbor’s house, who can only use the power sander between the hours of 7am and 8am, who also happen to be the ones who knocked the wall down.
If I hear one more oompah, or tuba/accordion flourish, I’m gonna lose my mind.
“Venta de reventón de 3 días en JCPenney!”
Oh yeah? Suck my dick.
Fuck Feliz Navidad. I want to postpone Christmas.
And then, I think -‘wait a minute – it’s not Christmas’ fault. Something else is going on here.’
Christmas didn’t cause this onslaught of misfortune.
It’s like this, because it’s like this.
This is what it is, right now, this year.
I don’t know if it’s fate, or Mercury in retrograde, or the Caucasian bearded man in the sky laughing at the ants going willy nilly because their straight line march has been interrupted, or an Unhappy Accident.
I do believe that if gravity holds us to this planet – all of us, then certainly there must be other physical forces that impact us. All of us.
And then, as I sit here, listening to all the money I could be saving at JC Penney this weekend, I begin to hear other things:
I hear industry.
I hear culture.
I hear hard work.
I hear happiness.
I hear someone…
Nora Herold would know about this.
Terran Lovewave does know about this.
I hear someone say, “Don’t resist.”
Imagine two monster trucks, nose-to-nose, grill-to-grill, pedal to the metal. Dirt flying, smoke billowing and nobody going anywhere. They are stuck in a brutal standoff, a fight for control, for…ever?
I am, in this scenario, one of the monster trucks and the other, the way things are. I am locked in head-to-head combat, resisting…what?
Can I control gravity and Fate and Mercury and the Universe and weather and aging and past mistakes and noise and unemployment and inflation and the economy and schedules and mechanics and timing and time and bad sales people?
Well, I could open a beer and buy a gun.
I can vote.
But right now? Right this instant? …
What if I take my foot off the monster truck gas?
What if I let go?
Okay, granted, ‘monster truck scenario’ unfortunate choice for this side of the visualization.
However, how ‘bout…
a gale blowing through a window, rustling a long, delicate, chiffon curtain. The sheer, diaphonous fabric dancing on the wind.
The blast… blows… right… by.
And moves on.
From where I am sitting I can see one drop of water leftover from my earlier garden chores. It rests inside the petal of a succulent. It throws a thousand sparks of color as it refracts the sunlight. Like a diamond, it shines. Like a star.
I see a white rose. Pope John Paul the II has given one perfect offering. A sudden gift from last night’s watering.
The hummingbirds blast past, roaring like speedsters, in a skyward drag race.
I have 12 lemons on my tree.
The men who knocked the wall down have hauled the wall away.
Whatever the cause of this onslaught of un-fortune, it IS happening. And it’s happening to all of us.
It’s going to keep happening for a while, Christmas or no. So let it.
Do what you can.
Christmas will come again.
There’s always Valentine’s Day.