Celebrate

Nana and Papa's house, January 1966
Nana and Papa’s house, January 1966

December. It’s snowing on my blog pages. Love it. Bless the person who came up with snow for the blogs.

We had snow here for real, a week ago, and more forecasted for today. No sight of it yet. I’m waiting, impatiently. Snow boots by the door. Coat and snow pants, hat, mittens from my mom, scarf, all at the ready.

I love the snow and December. They fill me up with joy and play. The child in me has free rein to laugh, enjoy, be happy. No purpose, no goal. Be happy and let it grow as big as it wants to be. I swear that brand new snowflakes on my tongue are good for my health. Also snowballs and snow angels.

My faithful iPod is permanently on its Christmas playlist. Four hundred and seventy-seven songs, if you want to know. Twenty-six hours, nine minutes, and twelve seconds. Every year I add new music. This year it is the Eric Byrd Trio’s version of the Charlie Brown Christmas music, and George Winston’s album December. His ‘Minstrels’ song haunts me in its beauty.

I scan the television listings for my favourite Christmas shows. A Charlie Brown Christmas. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. How the Grinch Stole Christmas (the 1966 original cartoon) was on last night. Yay!  A Christmas Carol, the 1951 movie with Alastair Sim. A Christmas Story. A Muppet Family Christmas, the Muppets in their fuzzy joy. My husband groans when I switch the channel, then watches the show anyways.

Gifts I am creating and giving. Cookies and treats to be baked. Love is such a secret ingredient (shhh, don’t tell) it’s not even listed on the recipe. All for sharing.

December. This is the month my heart sings. I know we are days away yet. I say the words anyways. Happy Christmas. Happy Hanukkah. Happy Diwali (last month, in all its light and colour). Happy Kwanzaa. Happy Solstice.  Happy Happy All.

I make these my December gifts. I choose Happiness. Love. Kindness. Play. Laughter. Sharing. Forgiveness. Joy.

I choose Celebrate.

________________________

In this post:

The Eric Byrd Trio, music, A Charlie Brown Christmas, http://ericbyrd.com/videos/charlie-brown-christmas

George Winston, music, December, http://www.georgewinston.com/recordings/december-11/

A Charlie Brown Christmas, animation, 1965, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Charlie_Brown_Christmas

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, animation, 1964, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rudolph_the_Red-Nosed_Reindeer_(TV_special)

How the Grinch Stole Christmas, animation, 1966, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dr._Seuss%27_How_the_Grinch_Stole_Christmas!_(TV_special)

A Christmas Carol (aka Scrooge), movie, 1951, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scrooge_(1951_film)

A Christmas Story, 1983, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Christmas_Story

A Muppet Family Christmas, 1987, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Muppet_Family_Christmas

 

Mirroring Love

Coyote Sings to a Broken World - detail
Coyote Sings to a Broken World – detail

This morning I look into the mirror and what do I see?

I see love.  I see big, fat, wonderful, cushiony love.  I see care.  I see kindness.  I see compassion.  I see forgiveness.  Passion.  Joy.  Play.  Love in all its shapes.

I never realized love had so many faces.  I could have guessed.  I know love is Source,  everything, all.

The version of love I have been is not like this.  It’s limited, conditional.  I’ll love you if you’ll love me.  You love me first, and I’ll control the situation and decide if I want to love you back.  If you love me enough or in a specific way (which you have to guess), I’ll love you too.

This is not love.  This is being closed and cautious and afraid of getting hurt.  This is not actually loving you here in front of me, and not loving myself either.

I am discovering that if I love myself, no conditions on it, it is easy to love the other person, you.  When I love myself unconditionally, my love spills over into the space around me.  Yes, the space where you are standing.  And then you feel love, too.

I love love.  It never runs away or runs out.  It’s always here when I open to it.  Constant.  Waiting for me.  I open to love, and it hugs me back fiercely.  So excited, so happy I am here too, and let’s play!  Love as a four-year-old child sharing all in her toy box.

Unconditional love mirrors me.  It shows me the true me.  It makes me the true me, when I stand in love and only love.  Other things—judgment, limits, holding back, hiding, control—cannot root here or live here.  They need something to push against in order to exist, and love gives no resistance.  They try to push against love, assert themselves, and instead they fall through and away.

In the mirror of love, I see you and me as we truly are.  I see all we have to offer.  The best.

Bright shining stars.  This is us.  In love’s mirror.