On this day you shouldn’t be checking your email. I hope, instead, you are watching holiday movies, and still in your pajamas, and drinking coffee, and finding joy, and calling your loved ones, and eating one more cinnamon roll, and picking up pieces of taped wrapping paper, stuck to the floor, and feeling…feeling…feeling, the light and warmth of the season. Feeling that you can finally settle down. Feeling that this is the day to rest and think about nothing in particular. I’m here with you.
On this day you might also be mourning, and seeped in a kind of loneliness that feel worse than on any other day. You may be trying to keep hurtful memories at bay, or separated and far from the people you love. You loved. Maybe this day you are begging for it to be swift and end quickly, because you cannot bear to be told to carry joy when pain is taking up all the space inside your chest. I’m here with you too.
And so, here’s a little poem, nothing your brain needs to work too hard at. Nothing as important as honoring where you are at, and being gentle to whatever is filling your heart. I am here with you.
Flight
a fallen feather is a piece of grounded soul aimless without a body to lift a reminder of once great heights no longer attainable
she is a sign from the gods that even the most perfect designs lose elemental fragments along the bumpy ride and every fragment shed is an updraft not caught
still, I think they’re pretty and I tuck them into books and pin them to walls and read in them messages in the timing of their arrival along my path on my right means yes, left is no even when a question hasn’t formed yet
maybe if I collect enough I can build my own wings someday maybe leave this place, a curtain of elemental fragments lost pieces of soul, to lift
It’s that time of year again, and wherein I repost one of my favorite blogs. This isn’t about religion per se. It’s not about what you believe or who you ascribe your faith to. It’s about how you choose to treat others. Because it is always a choice. And we can make it every moment. We aren’t held to our past. We can be better. In this particularly dark time, I would urge you to remember your capacity to spread and give light. We may not be able to control everything, or combat large and fascist forces, but we do have a choice to spread our own joy. To illuminate the shortened days. We also have the choice to be a petty and divisive jerk and shit on other people’s beliefs… different beliefs that rarely have a negative impact on you.
So here’s your yearly reminder: Don’t be petty and shitty, not any time, but especially not this time of year.
The world is dark enough as it is.
Be good to each other.
Psst… if you’re looking for a way to be good, especially after you read this tear-jerking post then click on this link and spread some joy:
For a list of where to get the most out of what you have to give check this link out.
For something closer to home: This is a great place to start.
And now, grab a tissue and enjoy…
Dear Madelyn and Delaney…
I hear there have been some questions at school and amongst your friends, about if Santa Claus is real.
There comes a time, in most kids lives, when they are taught to grow up and out of what some adults call “silly, fanciful, daydreams.” And so adults and peers will go about destroying everything that even whiffs of magic, and work hard to wipe away every ounce of stardust from the eyes of children who believe.
To this I say…Shut your mean-hearted pieholes, you wankers. (And anyone who hasn’t, at some point in their existence, called a middle schooler a wanker is probably lying. Let’s face it, middle school is not our finest hour as humans.)
These are the people who will say it’s obviously impossible for a generous old guy to deliver presents to kids one night of the year, while simultaneously cherishing and accepting the “fact” that a deity impregnated a virgin and their child wiped away the entirety of sin in the world…
…uh…
If they can suspend reality and base their lives around the idea of (albeit a cool), hippy/demigod, is it such a stretch to believe in a jolly old elf that spreads the ideals of generosity and selfless giving for just one day?
I won’t touch your hippy demigod if you don’t touch my jolly old elf in a red suit.
I bet Jesus calls him St. Bro-cholas.
I refuse to lose my stardust. (Or as Anne Shirley would say; I refuse to be poisoned by their bitterness.)
You want to know if there is magic? If Santa is real?
Here’s what I know…
Santa is real and magic exists.
How can I be sure?
I’m here aren’t I? You’re here, yes? We’re all here.
We were sprung from the unlikely combination of a evolutionary, chemical lottery and dumb, cosmic luck. Our bodies’ chemical and mineral components are the same as stardust floating around and comprising distant galaxies. We are made of the Universe and the Universe is in us. We’re naked, funny-looking, bipedal apes, and we’ve survived hundreds of thousands of years of evolutionary death traps.
If all of that’s not magical, what is?
Here’s what I also know.
There are two types of people in the world.
Those that destroy joy, and those that spread it.
I DO KNOW that it does no harm to believe in something better, more beautiful, and magical in our lives (Hippy Demigod or Santa Claus).
I DO KNOW, it does no harm to fill our eyes with wonder and joy in the midst of the darkest days of the year.
I DO KNOW, it does no harm to hope and anticipate.
I DO KNOW, it does no harm to walk into these short cold days with elation in our hearts.
And I KNOW this:
That it must be a horrible, dark and sad world for those that seek to take away such light; how bitterly awful to be those who disbelieve and ridicule others who hold magic in their heart.
It does harm, to take someone’s joy.
It does harm, to smother the fire of giving and generosity.
It does harm, when we seek to oppress the light of selflessness in a world so dark.
I also know this; each one of us chooses what we believe.
We choose what we fill our hearts withand in a world that can be so gloomy and wretched, why would you want to fill your heart with anything that would make it even more so?
I choose to believe.
I believe in Santa Claus and I believe in magic.
I believe that there is light in the darkest of times. And I believe that the joy radiating from hearts that hope, and love, and give, is more real than any hot air getting blown around by a bunch of self-conscious, hormonal, dying-to-fit-in middle schoolers (or cynical, angry, self-conscious adults)
Now listen: I can’t decide for you what you believe,
but neither can they.
So you choose.
Embrace the joy, be the magic, and light up the dark… or reject the lot of it and wipe the stardust from your eyes.
I came across this blog from a few years ago. I no longer am blessed to teach Martial Arts (due to some pretty awful happenings at my former dojo and a level of patriarchal bullshit I can’t even dive into right now). But I’ve been teaching a lot this year about creativity and this blog struck me as something that fell in line with the concept. So, without further ado…
Today I’m talking about kids. Particularly the three to eight crowd whom I typically work with in my karate classes. You see, this week is testing week.
It’s the exciting hours when those little bright-eyed darlings bound out on the floor (hopefully remembering to potty first and bow before crossing the threshold of the mats) to ‘earn’ their brand new belt and no doubt bragging rights the next day.
Now heading the school’s instruction team is a stoic former Marine and a stalwart of rules and order on the floor. Absolutely excellent in the face of a rowdy teen or an unsure adult in need of the structure and control.
Absolutely useless and frustrated in the face of the giggling, juggling mass of pent up life force.
And testing time is rarely different.
Though the potential for their future of order and restraint is glimpsed (and I suppose that’s why they come to the school in part) some of the instructors will roll their eyes at the still inadequate control. Meanwhile, I stand in the back and lament the beauty of their childhood being chipped away.
I was told repeatedly that “the Dragons class will eat you alive”. Both male instructors said so, shaking their heads and trying to bury the horrors of such a war. I nodded, in that reassuring way you do when someone has no idea.
Son (I call them son because I’m grow’d up over them by a few good years), I’m a mom. And on top of that, I’m a mom that actually enjoyed the ages of my daughters when I had to staunch nose picking while watching them ping-pong off the couch and sing “Let It Go” at the top of their lungs. Every day. All day. Seven days a week, most nights, and EVERY vacation.
So when those little bouncy balls landed on line tonight, wiggling in their gis until their belts untied themselves, and the jaws of less-seasoned warriors clenched, I glowed. I smiled. I adored and doted on.
Want to know why?
One of the greatest beautiful moments in life iswhen the life in us cannot be contained in man-made illusions of order. It’s in the misdirection and distraction. It’s the exuberance and unconditional love. It’s all that we lose as we age, either by the weights of life tying us down, or from being told repeatedly to stand straight and stop wiggling.
Ok. I understand that order has to exist. Ask any of the poor souls on I-25 while the uninformed attempt to merge. We do have to learn order and self-control. Or everyone would just live on cake and would never go to work, and we’d get into fights and stray from our taxes… I’m not saying that order isn’t important.
But order imposed on a mind still fluttering like a million startled butterflies in a sunny meadow, is like trying to…well, catch a million startled butterflies in a sunny meadow. At some point. You need to just let go and enjoy the ride and the sunlit flash of pure color. Keep them safe, keep them engaged, and love every odd-ball story and uncontrolled giggle.
I hope you realize by now, that I’m not just talking about kids here. Think about the people in your life, and what it would mean if we all encouraged, especially the adults in your life (You TOO reader), to barrel through it all with a bit more frivolity and joy.
Sometimes we’ve been so long from those two things, that we’ve forgotten how. It’s not so hard to find your way back. Here are some things that may help:
Go barefoot in the grass
Dig for worms, put them back in the garden.
On the way to your car from the grocery store, work up a good speed and hop on the back of your grocery cart…ride it all the way to the car.
Say no. To them. To yourself…to every “how to be perfect” blog or article you read.
Read the comics first and throw the rest of that shit away.
Go for a bike ride with your kids around the block and name your bike like the noble steed it is.
Tell a dirty joke.
Laugh at dirty joke.
Laugh at a fart.
Fart (and pull the covers over your spouse’s head so that they may truly enjoy it…if your marriage is really meant to last it won’t matter. If it matters well…then I’m going to let you think about that for awhile)
Belch in front of your kids, and follow it with a “Holy cow! That was awesome!”
Grab a bowl of lucky charms and watch some cartoons (Teen Titans is my fav these days).
Wiggle
Dance
Sing “Sweet Caroline” LOUDLY out your car window at the stop light. Those who don’t join in or at least smile are to be pitied.
Never say no when a child wants a hug.
Always kneel down to meet them, their perspective is so much better anyway.
Tell people you love them.
Tell them you love them without needing it to mean anything more than just what it is.
Move on.
Forget.
Someday, remember just the good bits, fondly.
You see, kids and older people get what we’ve forgotten. That the beauty of life comes from the dancing in chaos, not the standing still on line.
Still, go potty before you try the standing still…it does help the wiggles.
Sometimes on this blog I talk about writing. Sometimes, I talk about books and poetry, and creativity. I’m going to dip my toes in deeper waters this week, and I hope you’ll join me. I’ve been reading some really interesting books lately. Some of them fiction, some of them philosophy, but all exploring different aspects of perspective, experience, and this strange little existence we’re all trapped in.
Particularly, I’d like to talk about transcendence. Seems pretty hippy-dippy, yeah? Like only those on a first name basis with insanity or theistic religion (one and the same?) may reach this state. Those have been the acceptable formats to use in our ‘modern’ and indifferent current culture to reach transcendence. But what if, every human has the capacity to reach it? And why would we?
Well, ironically, I’m going to ask you how detached you are from technology these days. (I get it, you’re reading this blog–I appreciate your momentary attachment to my words, I hope they do you more good than harm). In our society, indifference, disconnect, and relativism have all formed a trifecta of creating a malaise of ingratitude and apathy. Whoa! Big words, nerd, tone it down…
Okay, so we live in a virtual world most of the time, rarely face to face. We are disconnected from the smaller, more real worlds of our surroundings. When we are face to face, we’re bombarded with the cultural effects of making EVERYTHING meaningful and important so that, nothing really is. We are more concerned with being seen than being known. We contain our worth in ‘like’ counts and ‘views’. We’re overwhelmed with information, but often that information is sensationalized and skewed, so the depth with which it affects us if often akin to a kiddie pool full of mostly piss…. What I’m saying is that our world has shortened our attention spans and hardened our hearts. And that’s a poor state to be in if you want to experience transcendence.
Why do we need to? We don’t. We could live our whole lives without having it. Some of us will. But as a creative, a writer, and a person who gives a damn about the world, transcendence translates to the interconnection of ideas and thought, the loss of self, the exaltation and delight of being truly present in a moment AND simultaneously interconnected with all moments. It helps writers and artists see connections and solve problems. It’s like having both hemispheres of your brain working at the same time.
In the modern world, people are addicted to the feelings of transcendence (joy, exaltation, elation, ecstasy, a disconnect from their lives) and many find it… often through drugs, or alcohol, or falling in love on repeat. Constantly punching tickets for these roller coasters of chemical highs, and depressive lows…Short term gains with long term consequences. It’s the equivalent of taking the gondola up the mountain but not really appreciating the view at the top the same way someone who climbed the mountain does.
See, transcendence (the magical lapse, the alpha state, the eureka moment, the disconnect from our small selves) comes from putting in time. Time on your craft, investment in your art. It comes after working through problems, working past failures and over obstacles. It means letting go of your ego in favor of discipline, to have intense attentiveness to the world around you (not an easy thing to do in the era of the internet), patience, and observation…curiosity. Hands on work, and hours in the seat. It certainly can’t come if AI is writing your story for you.
It probably comes as no surprise that, in our era of entitlement, transcendence is rarely a thing experienced. No one wants to work hard enough to the point that the work becomes the ease. And the process becomes, in itself, a meditation. Building a bridge between our analytical brain and our inspirational intuition takes time, and practice. It takes silence, and contemplation. It takes noticing the world around you. And this isn’t just experienced in writing or artistic endeavors. As a martial artist I’ve understood that its only through intense repetition, years of practice, curiosity and humility on the floor do I attain precise and sharp motion when it is called upon. (Slow to flow, flow to speed, speed to power, power to grace.)
So how do we recapture it? How do we overcome the indifference and work towards this genuinely life-altering experience? I urge you to take pause from the instantaneous solutions and gratifications in your life. Climb more mountains. Do things the hard way. Stop thinking that focused time is a waste, and give yourself a gift of singular-tasks. Don’t give up when things are muddy or unclear. Don’t be afraid to fail, but go on, steadily up that mountain. Practice your craft, even when it means writing your synopsis or your back cover blurb, or that query letter…those are part of the journey. When you skip things, you miss out on more neural connections. More neural connections will lead to “Aha!” moments. Use your goddamn brain and don’t let the screen think for you. Get out of your echo chambers. Meet new people. Take an unrelated class. Read something you wouldn’t normally.
Why bother? Because human experience and potential is fading, right before our eyes. It’s being replaced by a strange and candy-coated lie. A shadow of what we are capable of. Our lives are being played out behind filtered photos and 25 second reels. And that life experience is no place to create from. Dig deeper. Give a damn about your short and beautiful trip. Make it count.
Playing to hope and darkness, today, I’ll be featuring poems on both.
The Difference
She ask me
what the difference was
between depression and sadness
how can you be sure
you aren't just sad?
I looked at her,
and out the window again
and spoke the measured truth
forming sounds
that escaped dry lips,
torn by nervous teeth
falling into trickles of slow explanation
sadness was a cut finger
depression was a severed hand
cuts heal
lost limbs are lost
sadness is a cloudy morning
that passes into a sunny afternoon
depression is a cloud living in your head
and it doesn’t burn away, no matter
how hot the sun shines outside
sadness is losing a lover
depression is losing yourself
sadness is caring enough to cry
and scream and wail
depression is giving up
not seeing the point of theatrical
chest banging
because it doesn’t really
matter
anyway
sadness is a dead bird
on the edge of the sidewalk
struck down from its nest
depression is to have never heard
the bird sing, or to know
that it existed at all
sadness is a bucket in a well,
that can be lifted and emptied
depression is the dank water
in the bottom
that never dries up.
Sadness has an ebb and flow
a beginning.
An end.
Depression is being stuck beneath the waves
a thousand miles from shore
drowning in the cold darkness.
AND the Light
The Bones are Good
It’s in the small things
micro moments
hair breadth lines
the brush of her fingers
over the back of my hand
the freckles
each one
mapping out her constellation
a history of goddesses
painted across her nose
coursing through her blood
It’s the crinkle of eyes
green grass
dotted with bronze
and the fire behind them
the lighted soul
one stardust mote
in a universe infinite
it is how
they save me
every day
give me reason
to fight
for better
to be
better
These small things
are the weight-bearing pillars
of my world.
It’s that time of year when we are faced with a choice that defines our humanity. The choice to either believe in the light of the season in all the forms it takes and spread our own joy to illuminate the shortened days, or the choice to be a petty and divisive jerk and shit on other people’s beliefs.
Don’t be petty and shitty, not any time, but especially not this time of year.
The world is dark enough as it is.
Be good to each other.
Psst… if you’re looking for a way to be good, especially after you read this tear-jerking post then click on this link and spread some joy:
I hear there have been some questions at school and amongst your friends, about if Santa Claus is real.
There comes a time, in most kids lives, when they are taught to grow up and out of what some adults call “silly, fanciful, daydreams.” And so adults and peers will go about destroying everything that even whiffs of magic, and work hard to wipe away every ounce of stardust from the eyes of children who believe.
To this I say…Shut your mean-hearted pieholes, you wankers. (And anyone who hasn’t, at some point in their existence, called a middle schooler a wanker is probably lying. Let’s face it, middle school is not our finest hour as humans.)
I’m willing to bet that these are the same little judgmentalists that gave you sideways glances for not attending a church (particularly one of a Christian persuasion).
These are the people who will say it’s obviously impossible for a generous old guy to deliver presents to kids one night of the year, while simultaneously cherishing and accepting the “fact” that a deity impregnated a virgin and their child wiped away the entirety of sin in the world…
…uh…
If they can suspend reality and base their lives around the idea of (albeit a cool),hippy/demigod, is it such a stretch to believe in a jolly old elf that spreads the ideals of generosity and selfless giving for just one day?
I won’t touch your demigod hippy if you don’t touch my fat guy in a red suit.
I bet Jesus calls him St. Bro-cholas.
I refuse to lose my stardust. (As Anne Shirley would say; I refuse to be poisoned by their bitterness.)
You want to know if there is magic? If Santa is real?
Here’s what I know…
Santa is real and magic exists.
How can I be sure?
I’m here aren’t I? You’re here, yes? We’re all here.
We were sprung from the unlikely combination of a chemical lottery and dumb, cosmic luck. We went on to survive hundreds of thousands of years of evolutionary death traps.
If that’s not magical, what is?
Here’s what I also know.
There are two types of people in the world.
Those that destroy joy, and those that spread it.
I KNOW that it does no harm to believe in something better, more beautiful, and magical in our lives (Hippy Demigod or Santa Claus).
I KNOW, it does no harm to fill our eyes with wonder and joy in the midst of the darkest day of the year.
I KNOW, it does no harm to hope and anticipate.
I KNOW, it does no harm to walk into these short cold days with elation in our hearts.
And I KNOW this:
what a horrible, dark and sad world it must be for those that seek to take away such light; those who disbelieve and ridicule others who hold magic in their heart.
It does harm to take someone’s joy.
It does harm to smother the fire of giving and generosity.
It does harm when we seek to oppress the light of selflessness in a world so dark.
I KNOW this; each one of us chooses what we believe.
We choose what we fill our hearts with and in a world that can be so gloomy and wretched, why would you want to fill your heart with anything that would make it even more so?
I choose to believe.
I believe in Santa Claus and I believe in magic.
I believe that there is light in the darkest of times. And I believe that the joy that radiates from hearts that hope, and love, and give, is more real than any hot air getting blown around by a bunch of self-conscious, hormonal, dying-to-fit-in middle schoolers.
Now listen: I can’t decide for you what you believe, but neither can they.
So you choose.
Embrace the joy, be the magic, and light up the dark… or reject the lot of it and wipe the stardust from your eyes.
As for me and my heart; I choose joy.
I choose to believe.
REMEMBER! CHECK OUT THIS SITE AND DO SOME GOOD THIS HOLIDAY SEASON:
Okay, you can call it a cop out, but I loved this blog and I’m rerunning it.
It’s that time of year when we are faced with a choice that defines our humanity. The choice to either believe in the light of the season in all the forms it takes and spread our own joy to illuminate the shortened days, or the choice to be petty and divisive and shit on other people’s beliefs.
Don’t be petty and shitty, not any time, but especially not this time of year.
The world is dark enough as it is.
Be good to each other.
Psst… if you’re looking for a way to be good, especially after you read this tear-jerking post then click on this link (or find the similar site for your own state) and spread some joy:
I hear there have been some questions at school and amongst your friends, about if Santa Claus is real.
There comes a time, in most kids lives, when they are taught to grow up and out of what some adults call “silly, fanciful, daydreams.” And so adults and peers will go about destroying everything that even whiffs of magic, and work hard to wipe away every ounce of stardust from the eyes of children who believe.
To this I say…shut it your mean-hearted pieholes, you wankers. (And anyone who hasn’t, at some point in their existence, called a middle schooler a wanker is probably lying. Let’s face it, middle school was/is not our finest hour as humans.)
I’m willing to bet that these are the same little judgmentalists that gave you sideways glances for not attending a church (particularly one of a Christian persuasion).
These are the people who will say it’s obviously impossible for a generous old guy to deliver presents to kids one night of the year, while simultaneously cherishing and accepting the “fact” that a deity impregnated a virgin and their child wiped away the entirety of sin in the world…
…uh…
If they can suspend reality, even base their lives around an idea of, albeit a cool, hippy/demigod, is it such a stretch to believe in a jolly old elf that spreads the ideals of generosity and selfless giving for just one day?
(To be clear–I’m an equal opportunity believer so I won’t touch your demigod hippy if you don’t touch my fat guy in a red suit.)
I bet Jesus calls him St. Bro-cholas.
I refuse to lose my stardust. As Anne Shirley would say; I refuse to be poisoned by their bitterness.
You want to know if there is magic? If Santa is real?
Here’s what I know…
Santa is real and magic exists.
How can I be sure?
I’m here aren’t I? You’re here, yes? We’re all here.
We were sprung from the unlikely combination of a chemical lottery and dumb, cosmic luck. We went on to survive hundreds of thousands of years of evolutionary death traps.
If that’s not magical, what is?
Here’s what I also know.
There are two types of people in the world.
Those that destroy joy, and those that spread it.
I say, it does no harm to believe in something better, more beautiful, and magical in our lives (Hippy Demigod or Santa Claus).
I say, it does no harm to fill our eyes with wonder and joy in the midst of the darkest day of the year.
I say, it does no harm to hope and anticipate.
I say, it does no harm to walk into these short cold days with elation in our hearts.
I say, what a horrible, dark and sad world it must be for those that seek to take away such light; those who disbelieve and ridicule others who hold magic in their heart.
It does harm to take someone’s joy.
It does harm to smother the fire of giving and generosity.
It does harm when we seek to oppress the light of selflessness in a world so dark.
I know this; each one of us chooses what we believe.
We choose what we fill our hearts with and in a world that can be so gloomy and wretched, why would you want to fill your heart with anything that would make it even more so?
I choose to believe.
I believe in Santa Claus and I believe in magic.
I believe that there is light in the darkest of times. And I believe that the joy radiating from the hearts that hope, and love, and give, is more real than any hot air getting blown around by a bunch of self-conscious, hormonal, dying-to-fit-in middle schoolers.
I can’t decide for you, but neither can they.
So you choose.
Embrace the joy, be the magic, and light up the dark… or reject the lot of it and wipe the stardust from your eyes.
Sarah Reichert Author 