But obviously I did not.
In as much as I'd love to type away my feelings and views and all the rest,
I have not.
Fact is, it's all I can do to continue to wake up every day and put one foot in front of the other,
The 11/8/16 election results have ruined me.
Wednesday, November 9th, 2016 was the worst day ever.
(Update: Or so I thought until 1/20/17 came.)
It reminded me of how I felt on 9/11, but 100x more awful because we have done this to ourselves.
I'm not being over-dramatic:
It's not hyperbolic when I say USA as we knew it has been destroyed.
And it's not going to ever be better again.
The lines are drawn, sides have been taken, it is not politics as usual and there is no compromise: it's the Civil War of our time.
We are doomed
So needless to say, I am certainly not in the holiday spirit.
Yet here we are again, years on, and the previously published writings below remain timely.
The only difference is now, there is no Joy.
Hope has vanished.
And Peace can go fuck itself.
The old me would wish you and Happy New Year and Cheers to a great 2017, but that's just disingenuous bullshit anymore.
How about I leave you with this-
Fight the righteous fight and do not become complacent.
Don't allow evil to prevail and be on the right side of history.
Something wicked this way comes and it is NOT NORMAL!
-SSS (12/24/16)
Handel
Unlike last month's holiday, the biggie at the end of this one does absolutely nothing for me.I was raised a fairly open-minded and conscientious, rather casual xtn.
Father's parents predominately Methodists in tithe only- I don't think I ever saw them at a service, but I do remember those teeny pre-printed offertory envelopes.
Mother's mother a member of a rural American Baptist fellowship, but my grandfather attended the much more conservative Church of Christ. (Kinda weird of them not worshipping together.)
In my own immediate family, Mom would drag us four kids into town every Sunday morning, but for some reason Dad always got to stay behind and sleep in.
Sometimes he'd join so he could sing in the choir, but mostly I don't remember him in the pews with us.
I'm not complaining- those were formative years and I'll always be indebted to the childhood education director for (among others) turning me onto 'Jesus Christ Superstar' (first release vinyl so we could group discuss its implications), enlarging my social circle and getting me to question religion in general which ultimately led me to leave christianity altogether. (I wonder how she might feel about that?)
Ours was a stunning building on the SW corner of the two main intersecting streets in my hometown village.
(I grew up in what had been a very progressive and intelligent community in part due to the small liberal arts college up on the hill.)
Later, that congregation was essentially excommunicated from the greater umbrella organization for advocating no war interventions and welcoming and affirming all people (LGBT) into the fold.
Real christian of them, eh?
The church of my childhood re-branded and became this, but it's been decades since I was last inside.
There was no dogma associated with lessons taught and learned.
The real take-away from all this was basically The Golden Rule; do unto others as you would have them do unto you...
Pretty simple stuff, yet we as a species are having a rough time at it.
But really, I digress.
This entry's not meant to be about religion and politics- it's justification as to why I put up a tree and love to carol.
Sure, we identify as Pagans out here with our Nature and Hippieness and all, but roots dig deep and if those memories are wonderful ones, why not embrace certain rituals and traditions you like while chucking the rest?
The few times I did return over the holidays, I would drag my Mimi uptown for the candlelight service long after I'd repudiated the faith because I both loved her company and the magic all those flames and voices would create, transporting me back to simpler, kinder and unspoiled times.
So too for this other staple of the season.
Below is an excerpt of the Holiday Letter I sent out to everyone on my mailing list in January of 2003.
It's still relevant and for the record, CAM and his amazing horned instruments have been satisfying the desire for weeks now.
I don't care what you call it, but enjoy these days which only come around this time of year!
"...And so it hung over me, a monkey on my back, a dark, looming grey cloud of preparation and duty, that last box to be ticked off the 'to-do' list. To acknowledge its imminent creation would mean accepting that the time had finally arrived and the season was indeed here, whether or not I liked it or was even ready. Yes, THE Christmas Card Letter. It wasn't enough to send a cutesy e-mail or just sign the bottom of the 50% off store bought cards I've had for years to post at the ready. No, I wanted to think on profound reflections and make up for not having sent out greetings the previous year. But the days passed and I was no closer to the goal of penning and composing, much less copying and sending off the missive. Numerous times I sat down to the keyboard to type up my take on and part in the previous year to no avail. And then it hit me- not an end of the year, this-is-how-it-was letter, but a welcoming of the New Year with hope and great expectations dispatch.
Because initially as I began that task of recount and salutations, 365 days ago was only 97 days after the horrifically shocking events of 9/11. I didn't feel much like writing a gleeful and chummy holiday note recounting what a wonderful year we'd had, so I didn't. That 's why you never received one. Frankly, I still have not recovered from the effects of that day and afterwards; neither shall nor should I, probably. And I think that's a wise way to be. Make no mistakes, I've yet to cash in the chips of optimism and faith, but the glass is looking half-empty more so with each passing day. Over the course of the year+, I've seen my "security at home" (yes, read between the lines) and US involvement abroad morph into frightening proportions beyond my comprehension and grasp. Not to mention the outrageous direction immediate politics have taken.
It's not my desire to turn a simple greeting card into my soapbox of screaming liberal, pacifist ideology, but it is important to set the stage in terms of my mindset as of late and despair of what I fear is to come. [*a side note- In fact, acting as an Officiant, I was to perform a lovely, involved service in August that must now be hastily arranged for fear the Groom is to be whisked away as a Navy Reservist from Whidbey Island leaving just a fiancee behind instead of a wife were anything to happen.] The immediacy is upon us.
During these trying times I am attempting to reconcile events outside of my insulated domain and put them all into perspective.
One of the perks of my job at Benaroya Symphony Hall is that I get to see performances there free. And because I am subcontracted out by the company who provides all of the hospitality services, if I and/or my guest choose to imbibe, our only cost is the (very generous) tips we share with the bartenders: my co-workers. Infrequently I take advantage of this, but without fail every year in December, I make it a point to attend Handel's 'Messiah.' CAM accompanies me after a little faked arm twisting and we enjoy a cultural evening out for -pennies- that cost the rest of the attending public a small fortune with parking, tickets, refreshments and such. But beyond the economy of the event is the actual show itself.
I've joked that it never really seems like the holidays until I hear the 'Hallelujah Chorus'. Most people find this statement odd, for long ago I disavowed organized religion and do not consider myself a christian. But not only do I find this work a suspension of belief whose composition transcends content, but I also think now as an adult I equate this activity with a remembrance from childhood. For many years, my father performed this oratorio in a community choir. The entire family would attend with great anticipation and solemnity. One might think a kid would agitate against being coerced into such a colossal waste of time. But I was affected. Sitting in Denison University's cavernously imposing Swasey Chapel (where years later I would find myself again on the hard wood, polished pews awaiting my turn to collect a HS diploma) I was wowed by the sea of adults bedecked in their differently colored ecumenical choral robes representing the town's many denominations singing the most bombastic and moving music I could ever hope to hear. This coming from a girl whose #1 request to Santa was the 'Frampton Plays Live' double album. My dad was in the back row up against the a huge, solid, white wall with the rest of the bass section. he looked larger than life- as imposing a man as he ever was at home acting the heavy-handed, impatient disciplinarian. But this time I listened to him with reverence and awe, for the sound trumps all else. It is a great memory that has long been burnished and embedded in my mind's eye. And soul.
Again this year, in the state of the art hall with a less than impressive Seattle Chorale, tears streamed down my cheeks. Not just for my dad, whom I appreciate far more now (remember the bad heart and kidney transplant...) but because for the first time I really heard the words. They sing of PEACE. Peace in a world where now there is little. And far worse is the reason for so much war and destruction- religions: a veritable Catch-22. This is not new to me. But that night I felt it all and it was sad.
That is the delay in penning a chatty and effervescent narrative year-end report. As most of you know, as long as I've sent out salutations, they have in one way or another always included the ubiquitous peace symbol; I've been 'collecting' them for years. I've always meant these wishes and have righteously advocated for that ideal. This year is no different other than the need is more dire. To paraphrase what Ruth Gordon's character says in 'Harold & Maude', I protest in my own small ways now. I wear buttons and hang signs from windows and adhere stickers to bumpers. I send out e-mails. And I type Christmas form letters. Because if there is no hope for peace, then what I did this past year and what I'll do hereafter really won't matter..."
-SSS 1/2003
You really should blog more often -
ReplyDeleteThanks for the encouragement, Reader. Maybe, one day again...
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