I love winter passionately, despite my runny, sneezing nose and the itchy dry skin on the backs of my hands. I love to stare up at the pale, sharp winter sky and see bared tree branches etch dark lines against the blue; twisting and marvelously intricate. I can't think of anything more stately and dignified than a bare tree. I love the quiet bleakness of winter, the peacefulness, the acceptable melancholy that comes with some winter days. I love how warm and brightly lit my kitchen becomes when I am baking cookies for Christmas.
I am yearning to take a step back. I want time to be alone, but I am also wishing and waiting for certain old friends to migrate back to this city, as they do during the holidays. I miss them, and I want those comfortable friendships during the holidays. I am too tired to deal with these people who end up complicating my life instead of easing it.
But first comes finals. I am sitting here with various Anthropological terms running through my head. That is, I am writing this when I should be studying for a test. I am both very ready for this semester to be over, and slightly sad at it's passing. It went so fast... How quickly the weeks pass, and all of a sudden those days and weeks have added up to another whole year. And how quickly some people can pass through your life! Easy come, but hard to let go of all the same.
Once again I find myself praying to make it through the week. Every week I think it's going to be different, and that I won't have to send up that prayer. I always do, though. Things aren't bad, just overwhelming. As usual. I don't know that I would have it any other way... (Well, I might wave a magic wand to disspell this cold if I could.) But I suppose you have to take the good with the bad. How else is the good going to mean anything?
As a last thought, this has been floating around in my head lately, for I feel that it must be very true:
We have already had to rethink so many of our concepts of motion, we will also gradually learn to realize that that which we call destiny goes forth from within people, not from without into them.
-Rainer Maria Rilke
3 comments:
Two things:
1. Really liked your post on The Empty Chair; great thoughts and well-expressed.
2. I got two Ingrid Michaelson songs and love her; "Breakable" is superb.
Welcome to the depressing holiday season....most adults are prone to it.
You are like your giant tree dear Ivy...feeling stark and bare, but inside there is much moving, restoring and creating - getting ready for the new spring. Much comes forth from deep inside you and like your beautiful tree you are working on that unique "unshakeble identity" that will continue to grow and develop. Enjoy this part of the cycle...it is a wonderful and necessary one.
Chicago Ant - P.S. Letter still being written and so happy you met BAM!
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