Thursday, December 29, 2016

Twelve Days of Christmas

In most of my adult experience, the week between Christmas and New Year's has been a little bit like limbo: it's not quite here, there, or anywhere. If you celebrate Christmas, the big event is over with on December 25, and the rest of it (even New Year's Eve) is kind of anticlimactic. If you're in school, you're on break. If you have a job, you may, if you're lucky, be off the entire week--but more than likely you have to work for at least a few days, though half the cubicles around you may be empty. It's an in-between kind of feeling.

After I started college, I joined the contingent that was glad to get back into the normal routine as soon as possible after Christmas Day, an attitude that holiday overload before Christmas tends to inspire. However, as I've mentioned, I've rethought that attitude in recent years, and traditional ways of celebrating the season support me in that. The Twelve Days of Christmas, for instance, as you know, are the days in between Christmas Day and January 6, the celebration of the Visit of the Magi. I like the idea of spreading the celebration out instead of having everything happen on one day, and some of the customs I've read about from people who still celebrate Christmas the old way sound like more fun than the one-day-only approach.

I don't know whether it was "The Twelve Days of Christmas" song or the Hanukkah custom of the Jewish family that lived near us when I was a kid that inspired me, but I have started opening gifts in the days after Christmas. I wrap up little things that I would have bought for myself anyway, like a calendar or a small package of chocolate, put them under the tree, and open them one by one. I'm not in a hurry to open those packages since they look so pretty sitting under the tree, and this year, with all those hand-made bows on them, I'm in less of a hurry than ever.

I was actually still listening to Christmas CDs the day before yesterday before putting them away, but I don't know that I won't pull one or two of them back out over the next week. I don't have "The Twelve Days of Christmas" on any of them, but I've been thinking about the song and wondering if I might do something thematic each day in keeping with the gifts listed in it. I ran into problems, though, with the very first one: a partridge in a pear tree? I couldn't quite figure out how to pull that off, at least on short notice, though it did make me think of the ornamental pear trees near the street I use to live on and the fragrance they had in the spring. Some of the other gifts promised to be difficult to actualize, too, although it seems like a worthy idea. Maybe with a little foresight I can figure out a way to do this some other time.

The idea of leaving the tree up in January came about a few years ago when I realized how pleasant it was to have a corner of the living room brightened up with a prettily decorated tree and started wondering what the rush was to get it down. Most people I know dislike January heartily and complain about how long it is, but if you've still got decorations up, the festive atmosphere lingers, and that's the point of it all anyway. I don't feel like fighting winter if I'm celebrating it.

Despite thinking that a little bit of winter sometimes goes a long way, I've developed an appreciation for some of its gifts. I think the pace of modern life, and the need to rush here and there in all kinds of weather, makes it hard to enjoy winter, and even Christmas, as much as it can be enjoyed. When you don't have to go out and scrape the ice off the windshield first thing in the morning and drive through slick streets, it's a lot easier to appreciate the beauty of sunrise on a frosty morning or a pristine blanket of snow. Winter pared down to its simplest elements and sprinkled with a little sweetness and light can actually be quite enjoyable, as I've found--somewhat to my surprise.

Thursday, December 22, 2016

Mythologically Sensitive Solstice

I hope I'm not too late to wish you Winter Solstice greetings, since the day was actually yesterday, and today is officially the Day After Solstice. I guess we're all on the upswing now--before you know it, the days will be noticeably longer, though of course we still have winter ahead of us. We're just getting started on all that, but the prospect doesn't seem all that bad from where I'm sitting. I heard about how warm it is at the North Pole, and I just wish we could send some polar vortex up that way.

If you've ever felt a twinge of confusion about what you should be doing with yourself on Winter Solstice--it almost seems an anachronism in the postmodern age, doesn't it, one of those primitive nature celebrations that's been eclipsed by Christmas and Black Friday and all the rest?--you're probably not alone. If you were thinking: Should I wear twigs in my hair? Is a bear pelt the right thing? Ought I build a bonfire? Do I need a conch shell to greet the dawn?--I'd say the answer is "no."

It's only my opinion, but I don't think honoring the seasonal roots of the holidays requires literal re-enactments. Some people like 'em, but I'm not much of one for dress-up in any case, and nature worship doesn't seem quite the right attitude to take after centuries of science. What I think is sometimes missing in the present-day attitude that's supplied in abundance by mythology is an imaginative engagement with nature, a sense that the world around us is alive and that we're only a small part of something vast. It's probably just as big a mistake to think that we understand it all as it is to think that it's all beyond us, a mistake in the opposite direction. An I-Thou attitude isn't inconsistent with wanting to know how it works.

If you're thinking, well, smarty, why don't you just tell us how you resolved the Science vs. Participation Mystique dilemma, I'll tell you--but it wasn't anything special. I did the same thing I've been doing since I started my holidays, which means I went for a walk in the sun, turned on the Christmas lights when I got home, played Christmas music, baked cookies, and drank hot tea. Plus, yesterday I tried a craft activity I saw on a YouTube video: I made a paper rose to put on a package. It turned out OK for a first-time thing, and I'll tell you how I did it if you send a self-addressed, stamped envelope and a check for $49.99. Oh, and I took out a holiday pin with a broken clasp that I've never worn and discovered that it also works as a necklace. It's nice and sparkly, too.

Today, it was more of the same. By chance, the sun came out from behind the clouds just as I was starting out on my walk, and it was a beautiful afternoon. I passed both holly and ivy, and I saw a lot of birds--it may have been my imagination, but it looked like they were enjoying the sunshine, too. I admired other people's Christmas decor and door decorations, and I drank some eggnog when I got back. I'm thinking about making another of those flower bows, but the first one was kind of small, so next time I'm going to use a saucepan to trace an outline instead of a mug.

That's about all I can suggest on mythologically sensitive ways to celebrate the season. Stay warm (with sweaters as opposed to a high thermostat setting), get outside as appropriate, maintain good hydration, be festive, and eat cookies. I've already mentioned that I like to mix holiday tunes with other music to keep everything fresh. I know people who can start with Christmas music full blast on December 1st and keep it going all through the month, but I like to sprinkle it around a bit as opposed to pouring it on.

If you're curious, I will tell you that I'm a traditionalist when it comes to Christmas songs. I like a lot of the crooners of my parents' generation, and I love those records that have a variety of artists on them. I have a few CDs that are sort of New Age- or World Music-inspired, and I have one with traditional songs done by (in some cases) non-traditional artists whose interpretations have a little bit of what I would call "edge"; those are interesting, and they get some rotation. But my favorites are in many instances "throwbacks" or people whose style hearkens back to what I might call a less cynical age.

I wouldn't be surprised if someone's reading this and thinking, "Oh, I like that kind of music, too, but if I showed up at someone's holiday party with a CD like that, they'd make fun of me! Everybody's so deconstructionist these days." Here's what you do: Just say, "Dang, I'm sorry, I left my Tom Waits hipster downer Christmas CD at home, but what I do have here is Michael Bublé." And be sure you turn it up . . . he and Thalia really rock Feliz Navidad, and everybody will be better for it. Sabe?

Friday, December 16, 2016

Deck the Halls Right

Well, my decorations are up, and there were no casualties except for some stray Styrofoam bits that had to be corralled. Unlike most of the other holidays, Christmas is one for which I do have a certain amount of decor, including lights, gingerbread houses, and snow globes. I even put my Christmas bulb nightlight up in the bathroom, and because I came across my snowflake throw pillow while looking for something else, even the bedroom got dressed up a little.

Before I put the tree up, I started thinking about decorations I thought I remembered owning but hadn't seen in a long time. For instance, did I or did I not at one time have a Neapolitan papier-mache angel that I bought from the Smithsonian catalog? I knew I remembered a white-robed angel tree topper that always sat a little awkwardly on the tree, but I thought perhaps I had thrown it away. Getting down the decorations is always a bit of a job, since they're packed away on closet shelves amidst shoe boxes and whatnot, but I decided to search as best I could to see if I could find any stray angels, though I had a feeling both were long gone, that the Neapolitan might have gotten broken, and the white angel might have fallen victim to a lack of space.

I didn't come across either of them, which seemed a shame, because I was in the mood to do something a little different with the top of the tree, but it didn't matter in the end. Once all the branches were laden, I had to admit that the silver butterfly sets off the other decorations nicely and is elegant without being overwhelming. I set up my Nativity scene, put a pine-scented candle out, and spent some time figuring out where to place the bric-a-brac around the room. It was fun afterward to sit down and admire everything with a cup of hot tea while some low-key Christmas music played on the stereo. (I purposely mix holiday CDs with non-seasonal music to keep from getting Christmas Carol Overload.)

I wasn't in a hurry to decorate because--as I think I've mentioned before--I've started leaving the tree up longer, usually throughout the month of January. After all, what else is it for but to add sparkle and cheer to winter nights, and why limit the fun to a few weeks around Christmas? Growing up, I always liked live trees, but as an adult I discovered the hassles involved in setting one up, keeping it fresh, and getting the decorations to stay on, so I'm living pretty happily with an artificial tree that's just the right size for the living room. And I'm glad I thought of the candle, because the scent of pine is the real smell of Christmas to me.

Now that the halls are decked, it's started to feel like the holidays have officially begun. I was in the store today and was pretty focused on remembering what I needed to get (well, I didn't actually need Ghirardelli chocolate, but after all, it's Christmas). I was surprised to see that the store had so few turkeys in the case, but I improvised and bought another brand. It never hurts to try something new. I read an article the other day that bemoaned how unhealthy eggnog is, but it was always a part of Christmas while I was growing up, and I figured a small carton couldn't hurt; you just want a taste of it anyway--you're not going to take a bath in it.

You would have seen me frowning over turkeys, circling the display of Lindt and Ghirardelli with a laser-like focus, and muttering, "There's no egg in this eggnog" while standing in front of the dairy case. I was startled out of preoccupation when someone passed me in a beautiful red coat that was somehow the exact color of Christmas and must have stirred some pleasant association that I can't quite place, because for a few seconds I felt like a kid again, watching from the crowd while my brother sang Christmas songs with his class at the mall and the air was alight with fun and Christmas magic. If I could have that feeling while shopping at the local grocery, there really must be such a thing as Christmas miracles.

Wonders never cease. And I've got eggnog, too (the kind with eggs).

Thursday, December 8, 2016

Wordplay Answers Your Questions

"No question is too small."

Q. Am I imagining it, or are people in a more anxious mood these days? I notice that people around me seem antsier than usual. Could this reflect some type of archetypal shift, and if so, what does it portend? Signed, Just Wondering.

A. Wondering, I, too, have noticed an uptick in anxiety, although I'm not experiencing it myself. I think it's best to avoid being beset by other people's panic unless there is actual, demonstrable need (i.e., the house is on fire). As for archetypal shifts, I don't know about that. If you want to know what's bothering people, you'll have to ask them.

Q. As an aid to active imagination and to further my goal of self-actualization, I have acquired a spirit animal. I don't want to tell you what it is because I'm afraid that would cause a power diminishment and a breach of the psychic protection it affords me; however, it is a mammal. You may think it's silly, but channeling my spirit animal makes me feel stronger and more assertive, but for some reason, it doesn't work well under certain circumstances, such as when people around me are using cell phones or laptops. Can electronic devices interfere with spirit animals? Signed, Short But Stout.

A. Short But Stout, I doubt that electronics can interfere with spirit animals. I think your problem is one of scale: next time, channel a T Rex.

Q. I understand one of your sidelines is baking. My question has two parts: 1. Do you think about the mythic dimensions of what you're doing as you're baking? 2. My biscuits are tough. Do you have any advice for how I can improve them? Signed, Aspiring Boulanger.

A. Aspiring, when I bake, I usually think about what I'm doing, because if my mind wanders, I make mistakes. As for your biscuits, try spooning your flour into the measuring cup. And make sure your butter is cold when you blend it in.

Q. I have a problem with people who invade my space. For instance, I was studying in the library recently when someone sitting next to me kept bumping into my things and hanging on my shoulder while talking into her cell phone. You'd have thought we were good friends from the way she was acting, but I didn't know her. What should I do? Signed, Nymph in Distress.

A. Nymph, did you try kicking her?

Q. What?

A. Kick her. When someone assumes an attitude of intimacy that I do not share, I always try to let them know, for their benefit as well as mine. You don't have to kick her hard.

Q. I can't believe you said that.

A. Life is not a cotillion, Nymph.

Q. I have been invited to the White House to receive the Presidential Medal of Freedom. I am so excited by the honor and have been told that I might be asked to say a few words about what has inspired me in my life's work. You are actually one of my main inspirations, and I wonder if you can point me to a text that might supply some helpful mythic context for the occasion? Signed, Humble Yet Proud.

A. Dear Humble, I cannot help you, because if someone came to me talking about a Presidential Medal of Freedom or such claptrap as that, I would probably chase them off with a stick.

Q. You're not supposed to say things like that!

A. Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you wanted an honest answer.

Q. I have trouble meeting people and have been told that social skills are merely a question of practice. You seem so, I don't know, poised, and I know this is off the topic of mythology, but could you tell me what opening lines you use when you first meet people. It would help me so much. Signed, Wallflower.

A. Wallflower, the opening line I use most often is "Who the F are you?"

Q. I don't think you really mean that.

A. I do, though. And it doesn't have to be said out loud, although it can be.

Q. Well, you're just mean, aren't you?

A. Yes, I am.

Q. I got a splinter in my hand that I can't get out with tweezers. Can you suggest a remedy? Signed, Sore Finger.

A. Sore, good, I'm glad somebody asked that. I recently had the same problem and in researching the issue, discovered that some people swear by a paste made of baking soda and water covered with a bandage. However, I never got to try it since my splinter came out while I was doing the dishes. I don't know if it works or not.

Q. I was recently invited to Buckingham Palace to meet the Queen. I know they have rules of protocol, but beyond that, are there any particular colors that you think would be appropriate for an Athena-inspired female trying to combine Demeter qualities with a Zeus inflection? Signed, Wardrobe Challenged.

A. Wardrobe, you're trying to cause trouble, aren't you?

Q. Sometimes I feel like people are talking about me, even people I don't know, like celebrities on TV. I sometimes feel that someone has literally been looking over my shoulder and spying on me. I never used to feel this way. You won't believe this, but I know I'm in full possession of my faculties, so I suspect something strange is going on. Do you think this could be some type of government program? One hears so much about government overreach these days.

A. How long have you been feeling this way?

Q. I don't want a diagnosis, I only want to know what god or goddess might be present in all of this.

A. Is it just TV, or is it on the radio, too?

Q. You're not helping me at all. I just want to know what archetype--

A. Are you hearing voices, too?

Q. Stop it! I'm going to ask Oprah instead.

A. Wait, I have a bachelor's in psychology! I can help you!

Thursday, December 1, 2016

Essay on Color

I've been watching the news this week with interest, as I usually do, albeit it has been more entertaining than usual, with all the comings and goings at Trump Tower. Some people have been highly critical of the president-elect for creating such a spectacle with his pre-presidential planning and Cabinet interviews, but I've got to say that I personally have found it riveting. I don't mind a little flair, if that is someone's style, despite my own preference for low drama.

Before you remonstrate, I just want to point out that we've had any number of presidents-elect who've conducted their planning with absolutely complete fidelity to decorum who turned out to be duds once they actually inhabited the White House. So my thinking is, might not the reverse also be true: couldn't someone who colors outside the lines in the beginning (and possibly throughout) have more to offer than it appears? I don't know if this is the case, but I hope it is. I do know that I was laughing about reports that Mr. Trump spent Thanksgiving weekend asking people who they thought should be secretary of state. If that's not a true story, it ought to be.

In the face of all the hand-wringing, prognostications of disaster, CNN anchors practically in tears, and at least one Democratic senator having a conniption over a Trump advisor, I suppose you think the least I can do is offer some sort of mythic interpretation that helps make sense of the unfamiliar landscape we're in. The story that comes most vividly to mind with Mr. Trump is a Yoruba tale about Eshu, the divine trickster, who brought two neighbors to fisticuffs by walking between their fields wearing a vari-colored cap that looked different depending on which side you viewed it from. When the neighbors started fighting about the color of the cap, Eshu made sure to walk past them again going the opposite way, just to maximize confusion and ensure that they were hopping mad. *

You may be thinking, yes, well, it's always been obvious that Mr. Trump is a trickster, and we'll all be the worse for it. That may be, but Eshu, at least, is a character with a purpose: he creates discord in order to tear away the surface appearance of things and let the light of the divine shine through. Whether Mr. Trump has any similar designs or not is something we'll have to wait and see. You probably find the notion laughable, but I'm not altogether sure what he intends.

Since I've been a letdown to you on the Stop Trump front, maybe now you'll let me get on to what I really want to write about, which is what a glorious day it was today. Since we went back to Eastern Standard Time, I've been rearranging my days to get the full benefit of daylight as winter approaches. I went out for a walk in the middle of the afternoon one day last week and was stunned at how beautiful the light was. In this season and at that particular hour, it was so cool and clear that it looked like morning light.

Since then, I've been going out at various times and have seen the light at different angles. This afternoon it was like a holiday just to be out in the sun, to watch all those puffy clouds adrift in cerulean blue and to consider the colors of the trees, gone now to a more somber end of the spectrum in most cases but still stunning, with bursts of bright red and yellow punctuating the browns and russets. It's as if you got to the crayon box and someone had taken out the popular colors, the aquas and the violets and the hot pinks, and you were left with the burnt siennas, the ochers, and the chartreuses. If you stop and look, though, it's wonderful how well they look all mixed up together against a blue sky.

I thought a few weeks ago that it would be hard to beat the late afternoon light hitting the tops of the trees and turning them to flame at sunset, but taking walks at different times of the day has been a revelation. I've noticed a pair of trees that I've passed thousands of times without ever appreciating the unusual shade of red they exhibit, something that is only apparent in stronger light. I thought about it today and realized that it's like the color of ripe summer fruit, like fresh strawberries, a bit incongruous for December, maybe, but that's what it looks like. When the sun goes behind a cloud, the light goes flat and you don't see the colors at their best advantage. Being on foot, as opposed to driving by, also helps you slow down enough to appreciate the subtle beauty of the late fall to early winter transition.

I startled two robins down by the creek today and watched them flutter off. I passed maples and oaks, evergreens and hollies, magnolias and ginkgos and numerous others. I heard the wind in the leaves and spotted many nests in partially bare branches. I enjoyed the crisp air. I thought about the old saying, "In December, keep yourself warm and sleep." There's some wisdom to this, but there's also something to be gained by going out to meet the day, especially when it's as beautiful as today was. A little Vitamin D is never amiss, and you can always have hot chocolate afterward.

* (Source: "Legba and Eshu: Writers of Destiny" in Robert D. Pelton's The Trickster in West Africa: A Study of Mythic Irony and Sacred Delight)