In from the brilliant yet dark woods yesterday to a city in slow motion phase-shift and back to the attic with its new sense of stately slipstreaming. Time out and time in keep meeting like an open secret these days and there is only enjoyment of the way the calendar is going transparent. And as for standard densities of form exertion … well, what were they?
Anyway on something of a narrative note: there we were with friends in the warm heart field of a wood burning stove exchanging, extremely late, seasonal gifts and came to a particular parcel. Just the way it was wrapped had the legend Merry Christ beaming out of the general swirliness of the greeting paper … and inside was a gift of completely sentient light. It was a picture of me and my beloved on a summer visit out on some grassy dunes with our friends’ dog, a one-eyed golden hound named Sadhu, in the lead.
Unwrapping the gift had the piquancy of knowing that the whole woodland haven, of dear presence in our time, is be wrapped up and bundled off to others in the next few months. And our friends will be over the hills and far away. All of which is free of old flavours of loss. As the knowing within gratitude becomes actively generous and the plus/minus routine of an old deal meets the newly arising reality of sheer gift … merry christ replacing santa’s bluster with infinitely kind welcome to the innocence which seeks no gratification.
There we have it. And here’s to the increase of it, completely.