A Magical Christmas Eve

It's Christmas eve. We are off to see our eldest son Noel today. Twenty eight years ago today he came into the world. I remember it like yesterday. It was probably about 1.30am and I remember a star studded sky in those early hours as I left the hospital. Just before his birth I was asked to leave the delivery room as the doctor felt there may have been difficulties with the delivery. I waited for about 10 minutes, which seemed like an hour, then a lovely smiling nurse appeared and said "Well, do you want to come and see your son?" It was an unforgettable moment. I stayed with them until they both fell asleep after a long, exhausting labour. In the yellow haze of the lights in the grounds I noticed snow falling lightly and you could smell it in the air - you can always smell snow. And now he is a father himself, so today for the first time, he'll be celebrating his birthday with his son Louis. It will be a magical Christmas eve!

Christmas Traditions

If I see another mince pie I'll be sick and its not even Christmas eve yet! Where do all of these mince pies come from? Home made, shop bought, cafe shelves --------there's no end to them. And if we're honest, they don't really taste very nice do they?, all that heartburn-inducing pastry and claggy mushed up scenty-soap tasting fruit - yuk! And I'm not easily fooled by the thick top crust being left off, sticking a little star sprinkled with "organic" icing sugar on the top then charging double the normal price for the pleasure of consuming it! And as 'Christmas fare' is the topic for the moment, what about those good old favourites - sprouts?. I've never seen so many sprouts in the whole of my life as I have in the past seven days. Sacksful or should it be sack fulls? delivered here, there and everywhere in preparation for the 25th meal of all meals. An old great aunt of mine, God rest her soul, used to start cooking them at around eight in the morning for a 3.00pm dinner. By 11 a.m my appetite often began to wane. Isn't there a disproportionate amount of glitter on the cards this year? Our favourite was the card with the ginger guinea pig, dressed up as Rudolph, complete with red nose, antlers and lots of glitter. I think we've received enough shiney metal to fill at least 3 scrapyards!

We Change to Grow

Wednesday evening marked the completion of our spiritual awakening course. The focus for this final gathering evening was 'health'. I feel honoured to have been travelling with these souls for the past seven weeks, it's been quite a journey, sometimes over difficult terrain. I've learned so much from being in this sacred circle. We plan to meet in the New Year, in someone's new home which begins with a blessing for the house - a great way to begin 2008, the year of transformation

Works of Art

I finally got round to planting this year's indoor hyacinth bulbs, bought locally a couple of weeks ago. I love blue hyacinths growing in the house at this time of year. At present the flowers are chubby lumps, tiny pearls of white, blue and green compressed above each bulb. They've been sitting in the shed for a while and are now ready to move into the house. I spent half an hour at dusk planting them into old brass planters, discovered on a jam packed street corner bazzaar in Valetta many moons ago. In two or three weeks time, their beautiful blooms and heavenly scent will be wafting down the hallway, transforming the space with their Vermeer newness and beauty.

Here and Now............ and Remembrance

Today the 'practicalities' of the moment came into being. Paperwork, short journeys and 'phone calls - the making and receiving of, there were so many 'things to do' and such an early start to the day. The strength of women has been on my mind a lot today.When someone close dies and we are there with them, there is something difficult and profound taking place. Nothing can be done except to 'accept' everything which is happening in the moment. 'Acceptance' I think, is one of life's most challenging spiritual practices. What if every person in the world tomorrow stopped praying for 40 days and practised 'acceptance' each of those days instead. I wonder what changes might come about in each person and in our world? In the sacred moment of 'being' in the 'now' there is for me, ironically, a strong sense of deja vu. I remember the first time of being with a dying person, I think I was about 15 years old, 10 years after my father's death, (my intial intitiation into into an underworld I knew nothing about). Such clear memories of that green painted side ward and the light above his bed, our regular visits in those final weeks and days, the sound of the oxygen mask and the physical transformation of his wasting frame - we waited and waited. He had been our friend since we were small. I think it must have been in the early hours, it was so dark - his light went out and my life changed in all the sorrow of that moment. It happened again, some 15 years later. This time at his home. It was a long night, his breathing so laboured after the years of illness. Sitting with him overnight and late morning the following day, his breathing stopped. I still miss him.

An Angel is Missing

Well, the decorated tree looks different this year. It's missing something - our Angel. S/he perches at the pine pinnacle every December but this year things seem a little different. The question is - where has s/he gone? And I have to say, this is not the best time of the year for an angel to go missing. Is there a "missing angel's bureau" I wonder? What if s/he has flown to a far off place only to descend onto some unsuspecting tree in a lovely warm room? Would an angel knock off another angel from the top of a tree - I think not? What if s/he has returned to Homeland unexpectedly? Or maybe s/he's still wrapped in bubble wrap, nestled in one of last year's little boxes, placed somewhere in a hidden corner of the dusty attic, which is forever dusty. Tomorrow the search begins.

I Must Go Down to the Sea Again

Yesterday I drove over to the coast. It was raining hard, continually and waterlogged main roads en route, touched by the tyres sent spray shooting upwards like roadside geysers.
Leaving the house on such a stormy afternoon allowed my mind to wander and contemplate the the anticipated beauty of my destination. The sea, on arrival was a grey turbulence, foaming and heaving, such relentless Neptunian recklessness right in front of me -- and so so very cold, deep, lonely and dark. Ice was forming in the falling rain and as I walked, the scarf was wrapped more tightly. I hadn't visited this special place since early autumn and in the space of three months everywhere looked so different, the leafless, blackened tree branches in the main street, bowing to those commanding winter-gods of air. In some lost little seaside town, illuminated shop windows were filled with the remains of the last seasons sales and newer advent merchandise, tinselled appropriately. In this place there's a sense of seasonal imminence spilling out out onto rainy pavements and into the closing soggy moments of the late afternoon air. The sky, just couldn't be painted today. Maybe I'll go down to the sea again soon, to the lonely sea and the sky.

December Morning

This morning I watched the house sparrows and blue tits feeding in the front garden. I'm so focused on watching them. This is more like a meditation. I start thinking about how busy I've been and remind myself to savour more quiet moments like this over the coming weeks. The little tree has now shed all of its leaves and stands naked and strong against the ice-blue December sky. At this time of year I like to adorn its tiny branches with five filled bird feeders of various kinds. No sooner are they in place, those tiny hungry creatures, with wings moving like hummingbirds, cling to the timber- metal casings and busily peck away. Nut crumbs are widely scattered onto the soil below and the garden is filled with the song of twenty tiny birds. This is a very special December morning.

"Pain" Kahil Gibran

And he said "Your pain is the breaking of the shell which encloses your understanding. Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain. And you could keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy. And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields".