Those of you who know me, know I can’t just do “one”, so here are a few … a holiday potpourri of sorts from my head to my hand, and from my heart to yours, with warmest wishes for brightest blessings. Merry Christmas!
There’s a lot of emphasis on commercialism during the holiday season ~ not that we’re intentionally insensitive to the meaning of Christmas or that we’re shallow, materialistic creatures, but that we want to give.
We want to make others happy with our gifts, we want our children to squeal with delight, our family and friends to appreciate the thoughtfulness of a special something we’ve picked out especially for them. It’s actually a lovely tradition begun with a certain three kings bearing gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh, just perhaps gone a little wild.
With that in mind, I’m feeling pretty pleased with my choice of “gift” for the guests of my annual holiday gathering this year. My daughter and I started our own gratitude jars a little less than a year ago (it’s almost time to open them up and look inside!), and I thought, hmmm… yes, a perfect gift to make for our friends. Homemade, fun and constructive to boot.
I like imagining how they’ll be filled, all those pieces of folded-up paper with notes scrawled about people, things and moments they’ll be grateful for during the year ahead.
It’s a fairly well-respected concept that gratitude reaps harmony; it elevates our spirit and sense of inner peace, opens the gates for greater abundance. I’m pretty sure all that might even be scientifically based ~ something physiological happens that changes our chemical makeup in a positive way. But whether it is or isn’t a precisely proven fact, one thing I know for sure is that genuine appreciation and feelings of gratitude are uplifting. That writing them down makes the vibration linger longer, and re-reading them allows you to feel grateful all over again.
There’s only good to be had from this simple exercise. And as it’s been said, “There is always, always, something to be grateful for.”
So I hope they use their little jars, well and often. : )
The tree is full, shining and beautifully decorated (if I do say so myself) with ornaments from years past and present, each like a special friend you see only once a year. Cards have gone out. The stockings are hung. The little village with lights in the windows and carolers caroling on the miniature snowy lawn is on display. Gifts await wrapping. We’re feeling Christmassy. Busy, but Christmassy.
And what better time – the only time, really – to appreciate some Christmas art. So I share with you a few favorites. I hope they bring a smile, and maybe some extra sparkle to your holiday spirit. : )
I Love Lucy
Charlie Brown
Charlie Brown and Snoopy
Norman Rockwell
“How the Grinch Stole Christmas” / Dr. Suess
Frederick Childe Hassam
Frederick Childe Hassam
Raphael
Charles Dickens, “A Christmas Carol”, illustrated by Frederick Barnard
“The Polar Express” / Chris Van Allsburg
“Twas the Night Before Christmas”, illustrations by Jessie Wilcox Smith
I Love Lucy
“I say, ‘Get me some poets as managers.’ Poets are our original systems thinkers. They contemplate the world in which we live and feel obligated to interpret, and give expression to it in a way that makes the reader understand how that world runs. Poets, those unheralded systems thinkers, are our true digital thinkers. It is from their midst that I believe we will draw tomorrow’s new business leaders.” ~ Sidney Harman, CEO Multimillionaire of a stereo components company”
― Daniel H. Pink
I stumbled upon this quote this morning, and it reminded me that when I read Daniel Pink’s “A Whole New Mind” a few years back, I was (given what I do) thrilled at his theory that right-brainers will rule the future. There’s a place for the creative, the innovative, the out-of-the-box thinker ~ more than ever! And not just any place, but a valued place. And not just a “dusting off the weariness of life” kind of valuable (although that’s important!), but a place that moves, shakes and shapes our world.
Of course, we all have elements of both; right and left brains. And perhaps because of a genetic blend making me feel fairly balanced in that department, I dislike labeling ~ or assuming, for example, that if someone is logical they aren’t creative, or someone who’s creative can’t be logical, because that’s simply not true. We have tendencies towards one or the other, most definitely, whether innate or learned, but both aspects reside in most people’s brains to some degree, and I presume for good reason. (So when my very creative daughter complains about having to learn Math, I insist that she needs to exercise that part of her brain to stay healthy and wise and grounded, and not end up with both head and feet in the clouds. “Use it or lose it” has real meaning here.)
That said, and putting aside my own personal glee at the prospect of “right brains” leading the future, the theory does have merit, especially when you consider how many previously human-held jobs have been replaced by increasingly efficient, computerized functions – freeing up some of us to be more creative and others to flounder for their bearings.
And while I’m not completely convinced that poets should be managers, I am convinced that there’s enormous opportunity for unlocking the floodgates of our ingenuity when more menial tasks are automated. And I think most people perform better when they’re inspired, rather than watching a clock, regardless if they’re mathematically or artistically driven ~ both of which can be dry or highly creative functions, depending on any given person’s combination of atoms and molecules, environment, and spirit.
To do anything well, to grow, stretch boundaries, reach the moon ~ to live better ~ we need to think big and welcome a fusion of the intuitive with the intellect. And really, it’s always been so, when great things have been achieved, but maybe we’ll honor it more. Maybe poetry will change the world!
So why not change even today ~ open your mind to the galaxy, and get to work.
It’s that magical, hectic, gift-giving time of year! And again I add my voice to the chorus of choices, with gifts about reading and imagination.
I’m truly grateful – and pleased as punch – that my books are enjoyed and continue to sell year after year, and I extend a heartfelt Thank You to all of you who’ve supported my efforts!
If you know anyone else who might like to give or receive these books and products, please feel free to share the love and pass this post along. To purchase, a click on the image above will take you to my Amazon Author page. Links to individual books and related gifts are listed on my blog’s Shop page!
How very fortunate we are, what an extraordinary blessing, to have lived in the time of this great man.
So, I have a bunch of essays lined up, in various states of completion. The way a story comes to mind, then you get distracted by life or laundry or something, and you quickly jot down some notes so you don’t forget your brilliance – and then a few more days go by of other this’s and that’s demanding your attention, and in that span of time more ideas, more thoughts, more inspirations happen, (that you do or don’t jot down), and the cycle repeats until you realize you just want to be still for a little bit. Mindless.
Of course, this is where I might normally spew the wonders of meditation, but I’ll resist the temptation to be meaningful just this once. I don’t know why exactly – could be a loosening of the grips of an innate need to be mindful, purposeful, responsible.
Instead I’m going to share something interesting but frivolous, in that it really serves no purpose except to tickle the brain. And because it’s Wednesday and I’ve always wondered why it’s spelled so oddly. And because it’s the curse of a writer not to write, so I must write something.
And this is as far as I’m allowing my brain to go for now. (Good thing I jotted down my more impassioned thoughts, though, right? … so they can come marching forth again in all their splendor when I’m back in the mood for them … and less tired. Which, for better or worse, probably won’t be long, once I’ve meditated and such. But I’m veering towards meaningful again, so I’ll stop here and get on with simple, frivolously interesting.)
Why is Wednesday Spelled so Oddly?
Wednesday comes from the Middle English Wednes dei, which originates from Old English Wēdnes dæg, meaning the day of the Germanic god Woden. Associated with both fury and poetic inspiration, Woden thrived as an Anglo-Saxton god in England until about the 7th century. He also had a career in curing horses and carrying off the dead, and Wednesday is his day. Woden’s day has had various spellings – Wodnesdaeg, Weodnesdei, Wenysday, Wonysday, Weddinsday – but even Shakespeare’s quite sensible spelling of “Wensday” didn’t last. So in the end it turns out that (perhaps born from fear of his Woden’s wrath, or loss of poetry) the “d” and the day remain. And now you know.
Dark Sky / © Patricia Saxton
The Day is Done
BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me
That my soul cannot resist:
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.
Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.
For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life’s endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.
Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;
Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.
And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.
Thanksgiving ~ our very American holiday of feasting; a day with the sole purpose of being thankful for our blessings; a tradition with roots of gratitude that has managed, beautifully, to evade the trappings of modern commercialism. One day to simply appreciate what we have; nothing more.
They come in all forms, these gifts ~ they come as our families, our friends, our health, the ground beneath our feet, the roof over head, blankets to keep us warm, the abundance of this Good Earth we share; for land that lets us turn corn into deliciously simple muffins or set a table of lavish sustenance. And it comes as freedom. Because freedom is breath and possibility. Freedom gives us earthly wings to follow our dreams, and that is no small blessing.
So eat, drink, be grateful…… Happy Thanksgiving to you!
I feel like I should be handing out cigars. Well, not quite yet ~ but maybe I oughta stock up in anticipation, as I’ve reached the final stretch of my long walk into the magical world of dragons.
It’s a good feeling when months of creating ~ revising, adding on, taking away, nurturing and bonding with creatures that somehow feel alive in your mind, made real through your hands, with paper, pen, pencil, brush and keyboard ~ finally comes together. Like carrying a child for nine months, you find you’re anxious to give birth. Like rehearsing a play, the hour comes, the curtain rises, it’s showtime. There’s relief, trepidation and confidence, all mixed in. Cigars and (more likely) flowers are shared. And we’re almost there.
Once it’s edited and packed off to press, once it’s printed and bound and shipped out to the Amazon’s and Barne’s & Noble’s of the world, it’s all very tidy looking. For any illustrated book like this, the pages show a certain level of thought and detail and complexity, but not the background steps ~ not the conjuring, the sketches, the fine-tunings, the first, second third, fourth drafts, the hundreds of decisions along the way. The “fitting in time” when there really isn’t any, which means a pretty grueling schedule. It’s quite the process… satisfying in many ways, invigorating in others, tiring in others, and always hope that at the end of the line it will be well-received.
This will probably be my last book of this”trilogy”: mermaids, fairies, now dragons. And that’s a good place to stop. But there are other works that’ve been waiting backstage ~ stories, poetry, paintings ~ so it certainly won’t be the last of me.
For right now though, I’m off to dot those final i’s and cross the last t’s. Then my publisher will have a whack at it, and I’ll start ordering those cigars in honor of birthing more beasts and things. (Due dates to come … stay tuned!)
