Seasoned Greetings
Heading twrd the light.
An adult life spent in retail, and a wife in the healthcare industry made Thanksgiving and other people’s holidays mean something different. I would rather be working, but that came to an end as well. And so this year was the first time in decades I wasn’t up and out the door early on Friday morning to be there for the beginning of the 4th quarter sales season. Which was a kind of relief.
Kind of? I’ve been dealing with a lot of grief surrounding this estrangement, but it was a lucky break, in so many ways. I got to stop working at a place that I had a lot of my identity wrapped up in. I recognize that my reluctance to play a role in identity politics sealed my fate. But I got to find out where my fooling around was leading. To be suddenly ejected and rejected spared me the indignity of a retirement party. I am also disappointed in myself for tying so much up in a business that is so unserious I deride my own judgement.
I am faking it. I don’t care about the decisions I made in the past.
I’m actually pretty happy to be free. This is the best I’ve felt in years. I’m making plans, considering the future. I do not miss the past. I’m trying to calm myself, and just be present. I have time left, potentially, although we have no guarantees. I am headed somewhere again.
The reason for the season
I am not a christian, even though my upbringing was informed by an unholy combination of Adventism and Catholocism running under the programming. However, I do have an affinity for the myths. I don’t think that dude they crucified is coming back, and I don’t think he rose again after 3 days. None of that trinity business makes any sense at all. I think the Gnostic “heretics” explain so much more about what we are made of than some control structure like the church. Know thyself.
The adulteration of belief has always amazed me. The religious people I knew were so flawed, which was waved away with the slogan “Christians aren’t perfect, just forgiven.” Sheesh. No matter how egregious the offense. Forgiven by who? That said, I like some of the stories and saying this Jesus figure purports to have said. I am pretty sure that killing some people in a boat wasn’t in the gospels. And I know that faith in something bigger is a pattern wired into the human psyche. Everybody wants the power, but will trade it for safety.
We tell ourselves stories to survive. To teach lessons, to figure out why we are here, what our purpose is. Is that purpose to degrade and destroy our house, the place that we live? Is that purpose to use everything in sight, subduing and subverting the terms of life itself? To be the masters of our domain? I dissent. With all of my heart. I dissent.
The tenets of my faith are not something I dare speak the name of. Or the details thereof. I do not prostelyze. I’m not going to save you, I’m going to save myself. That will make life better for those who are close to me.
Or, I will get hit by a truck, and get reborn. We don’t know. You just do the best you can, with what you have, where you are. You are conscious. Use your will to change. You have to decide. What you want. What do you want? To do, to see, to change.
An Arbitrary Point In Time
One of the stories people tell themselves is the time story, that certain dates mean something. It is an attempt to manage the universe, to control the world. To control your world. Perhaps. I lose track of what day it is quite often. Because, what day is it. I will have to check my datebook to see if anything is scheduled. Because I don’t have a workweek. I have a day that I am waking up to, and we will see what develops. I’ve never been really keen on planning. But that is kind of changing, now that I’m retired, I have to do things on my own time, and nothing will get done if I don’t at least pencil in some dates. I have gardening to do. I have trips to take. I have a life to lead. Don’t ask me what my new year resolutions are. I have a list, and I’m going to accomplish some things on it, and forgive myself if I don’t get everything done. All you really have to do is one thing. Then the next. Then the next. Then you rest.
For auld lang syne, my jo,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne. -Robert Burns, probably collected from some tavern or music hall
Just another day, right about now, and the day is almost over. Tomorrow will be another day. “New Years Day” I just made a plan, and executed it. Not without having second thoughts. I rested a lot. I soaked beans. I got ready to make a ceremonial first day of the year meal. With beans, ham, greens, cornbread. Black rice. For real. Used the broth from the ham I braised for Boxing Day. Even kept the ham bone, and put it in the pot with the beans. I wanted to have white beans, because I wasn’t sure I could do the black eyed peas New Years meal. I might next year. I made the cornbread in a skillet, and it turned out perfect. As a matter of fact, everything turned out really great. It was complicated for me, and I managed to keep a schedule and get it done. I used up things we had in the cupboard, and made a dinner that was unusual and nutritious.
Now it’s time to rest. I will finish this tomorrow.
What If Tomorrow Never Comes
Tomorrow is always there. You might not be. You do not control the time scale. You don’t dictate the time. You don’t control the world. Your plan may happen, it may not. The world will go on. No matter how we hurt our mother, she will go on. The hubris and insanity of people destroying the environment of the only world we will have, one that our species is specifically made for. Our need for control, to oppose and tame nature. I do not believe in stewardship or dominion over the world. We are a part of the world, and I think we are being dealt with. Like an illness or fever, our greed will prove to be our ticket out. I don’t think we are redeemable. We are not acting in our self interest. It’s a suicide pact by a greedy species that think that the rules are what we say they are. Everything has a lifespan, a birth, growth, maturity, aging, death. The time scale is a blip. I’m sure the next intelligent species to occupy the earth will make the usual mistakes with the usual outcomes, but maybe the cormorants will do it right.
Tomorrow will come. What will you do with the gift?
2026!!
Is Young Turkey related to Spring Chicken?