December 2015 archive
Night with a View – Christian Schloe
I watch the evening draw closer, drops of rain on my window, the trees dark, the sky still pale, an endless blanket of clouds, the sun never slipping through. I stood by the ocean today, and that too was pale, tossing itself against slippery rocks, the horizon going far beyond my sight. I knelt in the heather, breathing it in, feeling some warmth there, watching seagulls floating on the wind, calling out to each other.
So this is how I end my year, at the ocean edge, watching the last light of day slip away, a pot of lamb steaming on the stove behind me.
They said it would be sunny tomorrow. I hope I can walk in it, catch a glimpse of it. Everything is dark, leaving me sleepy. Something in me is resisting, but my bones tell me to rest, to walk slowly through the world, through my day, and sink deeper, deep into the darkness around me. Spring is still far away, but I don’t long for it yet. There is still something to be drawn from the sleeping world, the long nights and stormy skies. I want to be in it, breathe, close my eyes, drink my tea. I don’t mind the cold mornings and early evenings, not yet, because I still need to sink deeper into it, find something buried in the dark, bringing it with me into the light.
Wishing you a beautiful New Year.
water nymph – christian schloe
The sun has turned now, and I feel the light returning, even when it’s dark and stormy like it is today.
We’ve gone away for the New Year, to a small cottage at the southern edge of Norway. I’ve wrapped myself in a wool blanket, gazing out on new sights, the ocean within view, little white houses dotting the other side of the island.
People are mostly away it seems, as I walk through the quiet city, strewn with Christmas lights, a tree on each side of every door. I want to be quiet now, to nourish something in me, something needing to simply look at things, moments of beauty along dark and icy streets.
I want sweet rose colored things, but I also want to be a warrior, wings spread, sword drawn. I’m looking for myself in this new place. Sometimes when there is a lot of noise I get lost, small, timid, and I forget what I dreamt of, what I wanted, and retreat to silence, to the forest, – the ocean when I can. And I listen, to the wind, my heart, my soul.
I’m discovering myself, a person I never knew. I wore my midnight blue dress on Christmas Eve, and a glittering shawl and thought of a priestess, how I wanted to be one, silently, within myself.
I’m sitting now, writing to candlelight, listening to heart songs. I’m going deeper at the end of the year, remembering, reflecting, wondering what to change, what to keep, what to do differently. I have dreams that I hold to my heart, tenderly, asking if it’s ok to have them, to follow them.
Artodyssey- Christian Schloe
I need to be quiet now because all words have left me. I reach for them, but they do not come, or they do come, but then leave me all too soon, and I can’t finish what I’ve started. I have many posts now in my draft folder; half created. Maybe I’ll share them later, when I can look at them again, listen to what they’re saying, what I felt then. Below is a post from a moment at a cafe. Being away from home make it easier for me to write.
At a Cafe
I want to be on the outside of things, during this Christmas time. Watch from the edges, from the window of my favorite cafe. I look at people walking on the street below, so many now, just before the holidays, doing the last bit of shopping, talking, some holding hands. I’m too tired to shop. I avoid the stores, their pull on me, what they want from me. I need to do things quietly, slowly, turn things over in my hands. I don’t want to buy things in a rush, so I allow myself not to.
I picked up my dress today, the one that I had found second hand, too big, that I took to the tailor. It felt like a waterfall, soft, flowing to my ankles. I wanted something that reminded me of the night sky, of magic. I wanted this dress, even though I had to travel all the way to the city to have it fitted, and back again to pick it up. But at least, then I had an excuse to go to a cafe, to eat chocolate and sip my tea slowly, watching people, taking in that special feeling of Christmas approaching.
I watch the world darkening now, gray turning into blue, enjoying the lights and stars drawn between white buildings.
I still feel a bit of anxiety around Christmas, to make it nice, to not be disappointed in it, because it’s not the same, will never be the same, as it is for all of us, never quite as it was when we were kids.
But it’s ok. It really is. I remind myself of this. And again I want to step back and gather something in my heart, that light I’m always looking for, that inspires me more than anything else. I want music and candles in the dark. I want the cold nights and early evenings. I want the scent of spice and special food only made on Christmas Eve.
And I want a quiet secret to hold in my heart, between the Goddess and me, and my Heavenly Father. I want to sit between them both and lean into their love, find a way to relax, because I feel so anxious and in need to control things, to make them a certain way. But I’m tired of all that. I want to curl up someplace inside of myself and rest.
I used to feel so sad when Christmas was over when all those little lights were taken down. But now I have something to look forward to, – for when I can go deeper into my writing, find some quiet and peace to reflect. It gives me joy and focus, and I’m grateful. It is my gift to myself.
Wishing everyone a beautiful Christmas and Solstice.
I found her among the trees in the winter forest, remembering to look because I was hurting inside, if only a little bit, but enough to reach for her once more.
I stood in the first snowfall, hearing that deep silence that only comes when the world is painted white. I followed a single snowflake with my eyes, the way I used to do as a child, watching it flutter down down, until it was lost among all the others.
I’m looking out the window now, into a darkening world, turning slowly blue.
I wish for the winter rose, to carry her with me through Advent, into Christmas, to remember her most of all. I get lost in the world, and then I get tired and retreat into myself, remembering her. I want to be soft and quiet then, looking out at the falling snow, the world silver and white, the lake like frosted glass.
I want to go deep within myself, close my eyes and rest. I feel thin, stretched, with little energy to write, wanting to curl up with a good book, poetry. Letting the words fill me, drip into an empty well, like snowflakes in the night.
Behind the leaves – Christian Schloe
I walked through the forest, crouching to gather mushrooms sprung up in the darkness, withered by the cold. I studied them, picking away moss, a dead spider curled up on itself.
I walked and felt that my bones speak a different language than the rest of me, – one of trust and love. My emotions are all over the place, but my bones speak clearly, saying – this is the path, this is the way, this is how things are. When I listen to my bones, I can believe I’m loved, that I was made from love.
I sat and watched the stream for a moment, bubbling past black rocks, the world even darker there, among tall, fir trees.
It rained throughout the night, but the sun was out again the next day, smiling at me. I stood in its light, feeling it brighten something in me, hearing the world singing through water.
Wilhelm Kray (1828 – 1889) – Winter
I went outside, surprised to see the frost-touched grass, that it had stayed frozen throughout the day. I looked to the white sun, seeing it in the water, feeling there was little warmth left in it, and that it was always low on the horizon, and that I’d miss it if I wasn’t careful. If I lingered too long with my tasks, it would suddenly be gone, slipped behind the mountain.
Even the large pines were dusted silver, and the grass crunched under my feet as I climbed the hill, sitting for a moment, staring out on the lake, the fading light, seeing frozen drops glistening all around me, feeling that the world had quieted, suddenly overnight, whispering hush, rest now.
The lovely Jodi Sky Rogers just shared a guest post I wrote for her blog, and I feel so excited to have written it. Thanks, Jodi, for asking. You can read it here.