Daze of Christmas (Day 4): Angels.

So, I'm on a bit of a Christmas voyage just now and trying to find some new meaning for a season that has become overly familiar and a little tired in my mind...

Today, I'm looking at the part of angels in all of this. I mean you might even have one at the top of your Christmas tree just now, (although we've gone for the star option). 

I like angels. They're the soothing voice of the bible story as far as I can see. Self-aware and perhaps even self-conscious about their appearance, they continually refrain the line "Don't be afraid".

Check these out: 
 
An angel of the Lord appeared to him.  Zechariah was troubled and overcome with fear. The angel said to him, “Don’t be afraid, Zechariah!" 
(Luke 1:13)

When the angel entered her home, he greeted her and said, “You are favored by the Lord! The Lord is with you.” She was startled by what the angel said and tried to figure out what this greeting meant. The angel told her,“Don’t be afraid, Mary."

(Luke 1:30) 

Shepherds were in the fields near Bethlehem. They were taking turns watching their flock during the night.  An angel from the Lord suddenly appeared to them. The glory of the Lord filled the area with light, and they were terrified. The angel said to them, “Don’t be afraid!

(Luke 2:8-10)

Joseph was an honorable man and did not want to disgrace her publicly. So he decided to break the marriage agreement with her secretly. Joseph had this in mind when an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream. The angel said to him, “Joseph, descendant of David, don’t be afraid to take Mary as your wife." 
(Matthew 1:19-20)

Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid...

Say it to yourself. 

It kicks off every message that the angels give in the Christmas story. They are words that our anxiety-ridden, worrying world needs to hear. 

Maybe you'll be lucky enough to get a visit from an angel this Christmas, but if not, why not try to sum up the courage to listen to the angels' message. Whatever difficult, unbelievable  journey you face or are facing, don't be afraid. 



Angels

Daze of Christmas (Day 3): Christmas Innocence

close your lids;
in a kids'-eyed bid
to restore your mission
(unseen on television);
when the snow was white
(blood in your veins that night),
turn your innocence back,
and trek your Christmases past,
when ghosts who held no fears
said silent, holy prayers,
and all you had was theirs,
and you believed and cared...

the bell has lost its ring,
you don't say anything,
(and Disney does no favours
with gift-wrapped rainbow flavours...)
you watch them drink it in,
and let the sunshine win,
just shut your eyes again,
hope is no cardinal sin...


Posted on Poetry Jam: Magic of Childhood

 

 

Daze of Christmas (Day 2): Introversion at Christmas

One of the most interesting books I've recently read is "Quiet" by Susan Cain. With its tagline of "The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking" and its sleek white cover (it draws you towards it subliminally due to its almost invisible title) it makes both a powerful and understated first impression. One that drew me straight towards it on the shelf of WH Smith in Glasgow's Central Station.

Having flicked through the introduction I straight away took the informal introductory quiz. It told me that I was pretty much an out-and-out introvert.


As the train pulled off, having parted with my  £7.99, I was hooked.

So, hear me out on this one if you can.  Ms Cain discusses different levels of "stimulation" which are sought by and which, are needed by extroverts in which to thrive. I'm probably not telling you anything new here, but these levels are much higher than those of introverts. So, while an extrovert might find their "sweet spot" on the dance floor surrounded by strangers and friends and some thumping drum and bass, an introvert may be able to survive these stimulation levels for only a short time before needing to retreat to a more optimal level of stimulation or brain arousal. This might look like a quiet corner with one or two friends having a more focused chat.

The previous paragraph is a woefully inadequate introduction to the book, but I'll link Susan Cain's TED talk at the end and she will enlighten you herself on the power of introverts. Better still, buy the book.

But what, you might ask, has this all got to do with Christmas?  

Well, it strikes me that what we have is a series of social encounters which could challenge introverts and which they may well struggle with. There's the noise and the glitz and the over-stimulation and excesses of get-togethers and  parties and dances and pantos and general brightly-coloured "excitement".

Of course, you already knew all of this didn't you? If you're an introvert like me, then, for sure you were aware of it.

Christmas can be difficult for any number of reasons, but the challenge is how to carve out a meaningful, restful time at Christmas whilst  negotiating whatever else comes your way...

So, what do you think? What are your top tips for a restful, meaningful Christmas? Share your best ways to relax...




Susan Cain: The Power of Introverts

Daze of Christmas (Day 1): Sufjan

"Look at my picture of Santa," says my six year-old holding up a smartly scarlet-suited, jolly St. Nicholas sketched out on a scrap of rectangular card.

I take a look.

"It's great," I say, releasing a smile that transfers from my face to his.

He wanders off as my daughter strikes up "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" on the piano, in preparation for tomorrow's lesson. It's hard not to sing, but I know it puts her timing off and I refrain from my refrain and hold it in.

The tree is up, tinsel and all, presents are being bought pushing up the January credit card bill and I'm wondering, perhaps more than ever, what this festival is all about.

The temptation within me is to endure the season. But, as this is my 40th Christmas, I'm keen to do some further exploration this year. In the next week or so, I'm going to try to post some of these thoughts.

I'll kick off with this.

The Christmas music of Sufjan Stevens has become the soundtrack to all things festive for me in the past few years. His work contains all the elements of kitsch, naff and sacred that mesh themselves together at this time of year. The juxtaposition of these elements create a beauty that manages to still exist in spite of the bizarre background of Christmas and all that it means.  His songs linger over the landfill landscape of stuff that no one needs or (secretly) wants setting us up for a darker new year. He sprinkles mischief, mingling with and poking fun at the meaning we have attributed to Christmas.

 In short, I like Sufjan. He's bonkers and Christmas is too.

Sufjan Stevens

Put the Lights on the Tree

Joy to the World

What depression looked like today...

The black creature, looming and ready, came at me just this morning. Now it is nagging and gnawing my insides. It has grown its own arms and legs and is wrestling me endlessly, trying to pin me to the canvas. I try to preoccupy myself. A trip to the bathroom, just to wander around the building... I lock the door to be alone, but I am not alone. I am tottering under the plunging sensation, battling to stand upright as the black one drips silently into my psyche. Trying to remember the rules of engagement, I trot through my mantras-breathe deep; thought challenge; pray. Mindfully walking, I head for the stairs.

Moving on up now, still not out of the darkness, I am aching for exercise to pull the black creature off my back, but I have the rest of the day to negotiate. Class after class. Yet another tedious meeting. Players on a stage and all that...

On the commute home, the black creature accompanies me, adding to the frustration of learner drivers, road-blocks and slow moving queues. I get out of the car, ready to pick a fight with myself.

The cross-trainer and the punch-bag wait for me in the dark, cold garage. Twenty minutes is all it takes, and I have managed to emerge again. Seemingly simple. Good for a couple of hours, but late in the day the black creature tries to re-emerge. All I can mouth are the same words I used this morning: "Father, if it be possible, take this cup from me, but nevertheless let your will be done..."

When the black creature comes on me, like today, it wishes to steal something precious. A part of me that I cannot live without. But I am stronger now. I will defend myself against this invisible onslaught. My grip on hope is vice-like.   

 

Hope Haiku

Resurrection talk
is mouth-to-mouth for all men,
essence of their ghosts.

copyright tutfoundationusa.org

Make up a song to warm you up on a cold day...

(Just for a bit of fun I made this up this morning for my kids as they were getting ready for school on a wintry morning. We sung it while marching around the house. To be sung to your choice of tune, but I suggest 4/4 time signature. Start tapping your foot and maybe add some finger clicks or rhythms with your hands and it just might warm you up too!)

...
invest in a vest
in a warm thermal vest
yes invest
in a vest
when it's cold.

your right foot
in a boot
your left foot
in a boot
put your foot
in a boot
when it's cold.

fingers love
woolly gloves
fingers love
woolly gloves
colourful,
woolly gloves
when it's cold.

on your head
wear a hat
or at least some kind of cap
on your head
wear a hat
when it's cold
when it's cold
when it's cold....

Wait.

In this moment I am breathing. Breath rises. Breath falls. This is a gift. From somewhere I have been presented with life. In this moment, I am aware. There is movement all around me, but I am silent. I am still. Cars zip past on the avenue, their engines puncturing the quiet. Inside there is a life, or lives travelling. Hurrying. Trying not to miss something. The thing they seek is here, in my breathing. This gift is all we have.

To stop is not to fail. To rest is not to miss out. To be is sometimes enough.

The old book says, "those who wait on the LORD, will renew their strength" 

human

beside yourself
not quite you
out of your mind
under the weather
getting there
the worse for wear

not bad
but then again

need prayer...

clocks go back

At this juncture,
every so often,
we let our clocks call out
that time does not exist
and we submit
(allow them power),
to jump-start us into early darkness
bring hibernation to the spirit,
and rise and rest
at the nick of their ticking;

so let the blackness settle
our moods are drawing in,
to hide in caves of comfort,
heating tired feet and minds,
mourning our loss,
afraid to let the light from inside
out,
or celebrate the death of life reborn,
when living through the passing of the night...

Once in a while,
let your clocks go back
and back
and back,
to black and white,
and
listen to their sighs,
read the silence in their eyes,
glean wisdom from the wise, 
who let their clocks insist
that time did not exist...

The One Show 10 word story competition

 Here in the UK, we have a programme called "The One Show" and they are running a competition this week. Write a story in ten words. Sounds simple. I marvelled at the example of  Hemmingway's concise six words which reveal so much with such brevity and poignancy. 

I posted this in case any bloggers fancied entering or trying your hand at a ten word story. I spent much of the afternoon trying to come up with something. It was difficult!

Read all about the competition below:

The One Show

TV Show · 49,743 likes

Can you write a story in just 10 words?

Richard & Judy are on the show next Wednesday to talk about their search for a new bestselling author. So we thought we’d see if we could find the best writers amongst our One Show audience.

So since it’s said that Ernest Hemmingway once wrote a “novel” in only six words

“For sale: baby shoes, never worn”

We thought we’d ask you to send us in your stories in just ten words.They can be in any genre; love, horror or suspense, they just have to be ten words long.

So get writing and send us your very short stories. Send it with your name, age and where you are from. email us on theoneshow@bbc.co.uk or post it here. Get creative....


And, here's my attempt (in less than ten words)

Stars of David surrendered, herded into shower blocks, we...