Growing Versions

The ball has dropped in many villages already. 2013 is in the rear window, almost. Two years ago, when I consulted my children about what my resolutions should be their answers were  pragmatic.  The six year old wanted me not to nap too much (believe me, naps were low on the ground back then to start with) and the three year old wanted me to swim and go sledding and draw more.  A hectic schedule and an insomnia problem took care of the nap thing and we did do more sledding and drawing over the past two years.  However, last year I resolved  not to make any resolutions , but to just keep turning towards the light. As resolution season peaks tonight, I got inspiration from this list that  Woody Guthrie made 70 years ago.   It holds up well over the years.  I think I'll make a version for myself, but I'm basing it primarily on #19... Keep Hoping Machine Running. (Source: businessinsider.com) I'm going to keep up the maintenance schedule ...

We have a new pet.  A chameleon is now in our midst. Her name is Cornelius.  These guys can turn into anything. "They can even turn into a hotel or someone's mom." So, you just never know where she may be lurking.

We missed the bus on the way to the skating oval. "No matter" said my eight year old.  "It's better if we walk there." "Oh yeah?"  I was a little skeptical, such long walks were not usually so enthusiastically endorsed. "Sure.  It's close to your work and once I get to the hotel it all gets a little misty, a big blank white. I would like to know how to go there. On the bus I am not paying attention." So, we walked.

Looking back through my old notebooks, I find that many of the thoughts sketched in them are forgotten for years, and then revived and reworked as new. I suspect that such forgettings occur for everyone, and they may be especially common in those who write or paint or compose, for creativity may require such forgettings, in order that one’s memories and ideas can be born again and seen in new contexts and perspectives. -Oliver Sacks I recently came across a journal I had been keeping when I was on an international exchange as a teenager.  It was more than a little eerie reading my younger inner thoughts, but I knew as I read them that that same voice is inside me now. Perhaps the voice has dropped an octave, is a tad less questioning and hesitant, more critical, and has become a bit more seasoned, but the questions and the doubts are all still familiar old friends. I also came across a number of quotes in there that I had already started choosing to use on this blog.  ...

We spent the usual inordinate amount of time in pyjamas, chomping on chocolates and playing by a tree.  We decided that it was time to be outside with real live living trees for a fresh perspective on the whole thing. As the snow gently, but steadily fell, we walked up the street. The snow was fresh and sparkling and, except for the occasional car or bus, the street was quiet.  We had no destination, our sole purpose was walking in snow. Free of groceries to carry or school to get to, we had some time to just enjoy the falling snow. Walking around the neighbourhood is so different in winter. The night and the snow stitched together to blanket us in quiet.  In the words of a spell binding storyteller, Laakkuluk Williamson Bathery, winter nights (much longer in Iqaluit where she lives) are "welcoming and warm." To hear Laakkuluk and others talk about winter listen to a splendid meditation on CBC's Tapestry, The Shortest Day, The Longest Night  .

The cookies are cut and slathered with goo and sprinkles. The presents have been wrapped.  The house has been re-arranged to fit a tree.  Several craft projects have been launched, and have been abandoned for other ones. We are ready for a silent night.

Concealing a gift inside paper or a bag or a sock is a tradition of the holiday season. We've been busy concealing and covering up gifts over the past few days.  However, we've been practising all year long. Every time the kids go their grandmother's house they always play "wrapping presents". Without fail, on these visits, I get gifted with a wrapped picture or a paper fan or a highlighter. Christmas wrapping is like the marathon after all of the interval training.