This is what it looked like on the last Wednesday in December, an ocean of bleached stubble rolling all the way to the edge of the woods on the far horizon.
The neighbor friend I visit each week lives at the edge of this field, sits out in his garage with Dozer, his pit bull, and watches the weather and the seasons change. Last week, he said, a flock of starlings came in, painting the sky with the graceful designs of their flight. He estimates they numbered three hundred thousand. Imagine the sound!
They come to feast on the remains of the harvest, the golden kernels scattered on the ground. And then they go, and the world is still again, with only a whisper of wind, playing the cut stalks as if they were its pan pipes.
Now that the earth is asleep it’s up to the sky to hold all the colors, the hues of blossoms and silken plumage. It does so luminously, as a gift, to remind us that glory is not only possible, but irrepressible, even in the dark and the cold.
In less than a week we’ll be into the new year. Today, the rains came, as if on a mission, as if they were sent to wash away the rubble of the passing year: the shards of suffering and anger, of pain and fear and loss– everything false– to dissolve it completely, leaving nothing behind but swaths of truth and faith and goodness, stretches of miracles and healing, and reaching for connection, the unspeakable beauty, everything–and only those things– born of absolute love. I smile at the dream and watch the raindrops with their upside-down reflections of the world slide down the window pane the way that sands glide through an hour glass. Next week, it will already be the next year.
“It’s odd weather for Christmas in these parts,” he said to his cousin, an old man near his own age, whom he hadn’t seen In years, a guest for the holiday. “We’re used to snow,” he went on, climbing the hill, pointing out rocks and roots in the woodsy terrain, “Not this fifty degrees and rain stuff.”
They pause to catch their breath and look around. “I like the snow. It pretties things up a bit. Especially now that everybody will be taking down their Christmas lights. It gets so dull and seems so gray–don’t you think– without the Christmas lights and snow?”
“Nah,” the cousin says. “I just pretend I woke up on a different planet. And I’m all curious, trying to figure out what I’m seeing. Just now, for instance, I glanced over there.” His finger points at a clump of green moss that’s climbing the remains of a cinder block wall. “See? See? It’s a piney forest of some kind stretching up into a midnight sky. But there are no stars. Maybe it’s the moon lighting up the trees. What do you think?”
The first old guy squats down, peering at the moss from eye level. “I see stars,” he says. “They’re dull, but I see them.” He’s looking hard at it now. “Or maybe,” he says, caught unawares in the game, “it’s just a different atmosphere that doesn’t bounce back light like ours. ”
The visiting cousin grins. He sees that he caught his childhood pal, snatched him right out of his world. “No! I know what it is!” he says, letting his old friend in on the joke. “It’s moss growing on an old wall, putting on a show for us two old fools.”
And they laugh and climb on, Christmas lights inside them that they have no intention of ever taking down.
It was a silent night because there are no words. Who could say its meaning? I once heard a song that said for each child that’s born the morning star sings a greeting, calling it by name. But on that night, whole hosts of angels sang. You can hear them still, in your heart, in the core of you, if you listen. Their song is right there, beneath your breath, pumping through your blood, saying you belong to the Yes and are of it, enveloped in its wondrous, infinite Love. And all It asks is that you pass it on. That’s its nature—to flow through all creation, every speck of it, even you, even me. Pass it on.
Have I told you lately that I love you? Oh, I know yours is a face I may have never seen, or maybe haven’t seen in years. I may not know your name or really anything about you. But you keep opening my little letters every week, so I know we share some things in common—the hope and aspiration that we will remember more often to be kind, that we’ll do our best to let go of mean old stories, that we’ll keep reaching for the best in ourselves, that we’ll hold on with every ounce of determination we can muster to keep faith in mankind despite the world’s evidence that mankind is a sorry lot.
It’s heart-warming to have like-minded friends. And that’s how I think of you, sitting there on the other side of this screen, hoping for words that will bolster you and make you walk through the week feeling stronger and better and maybe even happier and more at peace somehow.
I do my best, you know, to bring you those kinds of words. I don’t always succeed. But you keep reading anyway. It makes me think that you understand that we humans have our off days. We get tired. We get stressed. We catch cold. The cat throws up on the carpet again. Somebody pushes one of our crabby buttons. Yeah, you know. And so you open my email again the next week, or return here, to my blog, and give me another chance.
I imagine that you’re that way in real life, too—willing to overlook the shortcomings, to keep looking for the good, both in others and in yourself.
Anyway, I wanted to tell you that it means a lot to me that you trust me to say something valuable. It keeps me searching for scraps of wisdom that I can share, for signs and phrases that speak to the core of us and lift us up.
As I write this, Christmas is mere hours away. I confess that over the years I’ve grown more and more inclined to hold a hardy “Bah-Humbug” attitude toward the whole holiday season. It all seems so insane sometimes, the way we get swept up in some mindless effort to buy perfection, to impress. I think of my old friend, Henry, who said if he was made King of the World, the first thing he’d do is shout, “Stop it!”
But tonight, as I write this letter to you, I’m floating on a lovely wash of peace, and I have to admit that I’m getting a kick out of it all, this Christmas thing—even the mindlessness of it. I’m thinking it’s kind of wonderful, the way that people string colored lights to brighten the darkness, and how they go out of their way to entertain family and acquaintances they don’t really even like, how they spend money they don’t have to give presents because they want to say they care even when they only want to want to care. Oh, bless us all; we try so very hard!
But then there’s the other side of it, too. There’s the side that brings separated families together in a circle of love, and that opens the way for us to be charitable to those less fortunate than ourselves, that gives us a chance to say “I love you” to people without breaking social taboos, to say “I notice you” with a simple “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Holidays.” You say that to the clerk you see every week in the store and all of a sudden you fall out of your roles and are just two people, connected, and wishing each other well. There’s the part of it that lets us truly wish for peace on earth and to imagine what we as a human family could achieve if our hearts truly were filled with good will for one another.
There’s no other time like it all year.
My wish for you is that you, too, will find yourself floating on a wash of peace—if only for a moment, for a day—and feel the beauty and joy and hope of it all wafting up from your heart.
At dusk, the gloom of the day suddenly gave way to a wash of color in the western sky. A blush of lavender and rose, it seemed somehow a sign of hope, a promise glowing through the calm and silent air. Christmas, I thought. That’s its message. That’s the promise. That’s the hope.
Festival Day had been a day of wonder and joy. Just to know that the Light was returning was all the woodland dwellers really wanted. But they received so much more.
The Elf King and the Spirits of Fun had them laughing all day long. They taught them the game of Laughing-for-No-Reason, and how to Laugh-with-the Wind. The Spirit of Honey and Hugs made sure everyone got their hugs, and Mother Mirth kept passing out her candied winterberries. The North Pole Elves even popped in again for one more chorus of their song.
The Elf King took time to visit with everyone, and after dinner, he gave each of the woodland’s elves a golden plaque engraved with his thanks for their unfailing merriment and service.
Then, just as the dusk was growing deep, the Elf King and Spirits of Fun hopped onto the landing platform, and waving goodbye, faded into the night.
When Little Pine got home, he shared mugs of birch cider with his mother and they chatted about their beautiful day. What a Festival Day it had been!
Then Mother Pine tucked Little Pine in for the night, kissing him on the forehead. “I love you, Little Pine,” she said.
“I love you, Mother, too,” he smiled.
As dreams began to overtake him, he saw some dancing golden stars. And the faces of the Elf King and the Spirits of Fun appeared, and said, “Thanks for the wonderful time, Little Pine. Remember, we’re always only a thought away.”
And with that, Little Pine drifted into a deep sleep, his heart full of love and joy.
On Festival Day, the dwellers of the woodland were awakened by the holly tree’s clear, sweet song, calling them to greet the morning.
Each of them put on their most beautiful garments, and after a light breakfast, waited for the procession to reach their homes.
A regal deer stood in the clearing beside the elves’ house, his breath frosty in the cold air. His horns were adorned with bells and streams of greens and berries, and he stood tall and proud. Soon the Elf King and the Spirits of Fun arrived and took their places behind him, with all the woodland elves forming the end of the line.
At the sound of the Mirth Elf’s horn, the deer stepped out, leading the parade from one home to another, with all of them singing the Festival songs in honor of the returning Light. As one dweller after another joined in the parade, the song grew richer and fuller until it echoed off the lake and ponds and shimmered through the trees. Every branch and twig quivered in joy to its sound.
Then the deer led the line of celebrants around the outer edges of the woods four times, to honor each of the past year’s seasons. And when the last round was complete, the parade marched to the end of the small pond where they encircled Grandfather Pine.
And there they sang once more their song of honor and welcome to the returning Light, and from the heavens, a beautiful angel descended above Grandfather’s crown, stars falling all around her.
“Greetings, dear children,” she said, gazing at them with a face full of tenderness. “I am the Angel of the Solstice, come to thank you for your praise. Having traveled to the end of its southward journey, today the Light indeed begins its return to your land. And with it, it brings the inspiration for all new beginnings that life may renew itself once more in your northern lands.
“Plan now how you will use the gifts it brings you to increase your growth and expand the world’s joy, for that is its purpose in shining. It beams the undying love of the Great Yes to you that you may fulfill all your potential and realize each of your heart’s true dreams, now and evermore, from form to form, from world to world, until you arrive at Love’s very heart.”
Then the angel faded away, and Grandfather himself led the final chorus of the song of honor to the Light.
“Well done, my friends,” he said as the song ended. “Now begin your celebration. Your feast awaits you. May your games be merry and your day be bright. And then, sweet ones, rest well and dream deeply, for winter is begun, and in our inner worlds, we have much to do to ready ourselves for spring. Think on the angels’ counsel and let your finest dreams reveal to you all that you may be.”
He nodded to the Mirth Elf, who blew his trumpet in a Joyous salute, and the deer, and Elf King, the Spirits of Fun, and all the elves, led the revelers back to the clearing where they feasted and played all day long.
None of the woodland dwellers had to think twice about Mother Mirth’s breakfast invitation. The dawn had hardly begun to light the sky as they headed toward the clearing beside the elves’ house. And what a sight greeted them when they arrived!
All the forest mothers had sent breakfast treats and Mother Elf and Mother Mirth were setting them out on long tables. Beautiful garlands of pine, fir, cedar and spruce decorated each one, and each one held a bouquet of mixed evergreens and holly. It was all so beautiful!
The Spirits of Fun were singing to the music that Matthew Mirth played on his horn, and the mood of excitement was growing in the clearing with every new arrival.
“Welcome! Welcome!” Mother Elf called to the woodland dwellers as they filed in. “Help yourself to some hot wintergreen tea while we wait for the King. It won’t be long now.”
When the sun rose over the woodland’s eastern slopes, a hush fell over the crowd. Everybody found a seat and watched with wide eyes as the landing platform began its vibration. The crowd vibrated right along with it. And when it suddenly stopped and a shower of golden stars began to tumble all around them, they stood and cheered. Matthew Mirth played a royal greeting on his horn.
And then, from the star-spangled darkness, a shiny strand of red and gold berries stretched down, and they watched in suspense as a small, furry critter of some kind slid down its length, wearing an elegant green coat and a bright golden crown.
The elves burst into laughter at the sight of him and began rolling on the ground holding their sides as if someone had just told them the funniest joke in the world.
The Elf King stepped onto the platform from his rope of berries, spread his arms wide, and bowed to the woodland dwellers. “Hello,” he said, in a warm and gentle voice. His furry face wore a look of tender kindness, the likes of which none had ever seen before.
The woodland dwellers just blinked and stared for a moment. They hadn’t known what to expect, but all of them thought the Elf King would be far larger, and that he would probably look like the woodland elves. This little Elf King took them quite by surprise.
Finally, Teddy, the eldest elf, broke the silence. “Hey, Little Elf King! Welcome!” he said, leaping onto the platform and shaking the Elf King’s paw. “We’re so honored that you have come!” And the crowd, awakened from their surprise, started clapping and singing, “Welcome! Welcome!”
Mikey Mirth stepped onto the platform and handed the King a microphone. The King smiled and thanked him.
“Greetings, my friends,” he said in his gentle voice. “And thank you for your warm welcome! It’s my special pleasure to be here in your woodland for the Festival of Light this year.
“As you may know, the Spirits of Fun and I visit a different woodland every year to honor its local elves for their joyous and loyal service. And I have received reports that your elves are among the finest in the world.”
The crowd stood again and cheered.
“They are the servants of the seasons, helping buds to open, and painting the flowers and leaves with their colors. They carry dew drops to the blades of grass in the springtime and lead mother birds to the finest materials for their nests. They sing to the crops in summer and play with the hard-working bees. They direct traffic for the ants and help them find their way when they have gone astray. They decorate the forest’s floor and hang fungus on the trees. They paint the leaves in autumn. And they love their work, and sing with merriment every single hour of the day. Aren’t they grand!”
Once again, the crowd rose and cheered.
“Elves live all over the world. They come in different colors and forms. But everywhere, they are known for their industry, humor and playfulness. They remind us that life is a celebration—every day of it.
“I am proud to be their king, and happy that my most important duty is to tell them that we see their work and adore their joy and believe with all our hearts that life wouldn’t be the same without them.
“Thank you, woodland elves, for all that you do,” the King said, bowing deeply.
And the crowd roared in agreement, laughing and clapping until the King held up his hand. “You are wonderful members of a beautiful woodland community,” he said. “Now let’s all have some breakfast and you can show me around.”
