Art as a Celebration

It is so warm, too warm for just past the winter’s solstice. I know what it means, this unseasonable weather. Yet, I am so grateful for it. After such a difficult year of cold, hunger and illness, a bout of spring is such a gift. The lady bugs have hatched, little spotted red beetles are on everything, generally thought to bring tidings of luck and fortune. 

I want to believe in good omens, of a blessed new year, of things finally looking up. As I sit here, in an isolated cabin, perched on the edge of a Appalachian peak, I can. While the world has felt disastrous for so long, having a hawk’s view of this glorious valley gives me distance and vantage.

I have become a firm believer in the power of positivity, but positivity cannot be faked. And when too many dramas culminate, that power can be seemingly snuffed. 

I choose to take full advantage of this fleeting spring weather to recharge. I would rather not fret over any impending ice storms, or the state of climate change, or the crumbling of antiquated political institutions. That all can wait for another time.

Instead, I choose to sit here, on the eve of the Christmas celebration to honor the light, love and peace that resides here, in this very moment.

I know this time is usually meant for gatherings and family occasions. Some of us have other circumstances for whatever reason. This year I find myself alone. That word seems so frightful and pitiable to so many–alone. I do not look at it that way. In fact, I am so relieved to have solitude at this time to reconnect to something quiet, soothing and nurturing. 

I don’t care what it is called: my higher self, my soul, nature, mother earth or God. Whatever it is brings a full body chill only identifiable as love.

In this remote place, I can listen..to whatever you want to call it.

It says so much in the rustle of bare branches and the susurrus of streams. The lessons are all there for us to pluck, like the cardinals feasting in the holly trees below. The reassurances are written in the leaf laden earth at my feet. It speaks of rest, of dormancy, of a great sleep so that we all may bloom and flourish once again. 

I will go by nature’s example and celebrate this fleeting time of respite from the seriousness of darker days. As the light plays upon the sky, I play with my paints. It is my own small celebration as a way to express appreciation. This is my greatest Christmas gift.