December 5th, I Think.

How did I cultivate a sense of wonder in my life in 2010.

I began to believe in magic, in the sheen of a secret side to every situation and every thing. Results - I paid attention to dandelions. I blew bubbles. I celebrated 10.10.10 at 10:10:10. I felt voices rather than heard them (Dave Matthews, David Gray, Marcus Mumford, Josh Ritter).

Wow...I didn't realize until now how much I really did try to cultivate this sense of wonder. Maybe not in those words, but that's what happened. I am a short-term type of person - what to do in the next few hours, what happened in the past day or two. Beyond that, memories and thoughts go to a place in my mind where they are laminated and, upon need of them or sudden remembrance, they are clear to me as the day it happened. But everything is not in my head at one time, or at least, not everything that's ever happened to me.

I know it's not uncommon but I liked realizing it. Self-knowledge was another thing I was working on this year, I think. And information, always more information - the inhaling of facts and ideas and skills and stories. There is always that.

It Doesn't Feel Like a Monday.

I stood out on a plateau last night with the snow shrieking around me, in "the palace of winds." I understood that phrase when I read it in The English Patient, but never as in that moment with the cold toothy wind sticking my back and blowing down into the valley.

I slid down the side of the hill and hunkered down in the brush, on my knees. I had wandered around searching for magical things all day, in the beginnings and the zenith of the snowstorm. I found it there, among the curves of the dormant vines, snowflakes slashing their way through the air above me. It wasn't magical so much as awesome, in the most majestic sense of that word.

I resolved not to waste the next snowstorm, after last winter's big one. So maybe I did, today, but tomorrow there is the promise of much frolicking and yesterday was majestic. Maybe now I shall go out to the Jewish cemetery and find the coupled silence of snow and the grave.

Reflections during Christmas break.

I like Christmas trees the best, and Christmas lights. And How the Grinch Stole Christmas...and Christmas cookies. This year, 2010, I think has been filled with more magic than any year of my life. I'm seeing it everywhere, helped along perhaps by all those icons and their depictions of small magical moments.

It's difficult to keep in mind the real reason of the season, as they say. My mind is more often on what to do next on day so-and-so of Christmas break, what present to put together next, all the cards I want to write to my peeps; or it's on the small happy moments that this break has been made up of. Compliments and little endearments that I didn't realize I wanted to hear so much until I heard them.

Starting to focus on living, really living: cleaning up my junk and washing dishes, making French toast and thinking on things in deeper levels. Not worrying so much about what I write, most of all what I write in my journal or on here, the places where I'm supposed to be letting loose, not holding on. So that's how it's going.

It came about after coming home Sunday, I think, and having a sort of nervous breakdown over insecurities and circumstances. I moped around for a few hours, then went to the movies along to see The Chronicles of Narnia. It wasn't fair to see it then, when I could barely focus on where to walk next, but maybe someday I'll have the chance to re-watch it.

It was nice though, being alone. I was inspired after The Fish sent me a poem-video called How To Be Alone. After she sent me that, I printed out the words and carried them around with me, thinking on them. It was so freeing, to walk and not worry about how to fill the silences and what to say next and if it was correct, if it was wise, if it fit the image I wanted that person to have of me.

Is that hypocritical? or theatrical? I can't decide.

I just was, Sunday afternoon. Theater 7 was nearly empty, and I sat in the middle with myself and an empty half-theater before me, crying at parts of the movie because of the colors or the clarity of the water, and not caring very much about anything except that moment.

Doesn't sound very Christian I suppose, but it was calming and I felt lighter walking out of AMC. I walked to Barnes&Noble, wandering the aisles a little bit before calling Papa to take me home. It's a good place to get lost, in the middle of a million captive worlds. I saw no one I knew. No one knew me. The only person I talked to was the cashier and the lady who wanted to take my 3D glasses at the end of the movie, but she doesn't count because I was spacing out as I usually do after the credits roll.

It always feels like a rebirth, walking out of a theater at the end of a movie. Darkness and projected images, followed by rapid blinking, disorientation, and the cleaning crew at the end of the tunnel. Haha.. weird. I like the feeling though. I don't go to the movies often but I like going alone best, I've decided. Watching a movie for the first time with people is awkward. I like the privateness of entering a story alone and letting it change me uninfluenced.

Well, that's how I am now. I've been thinking a lot about change, about growing old. The preciousness of time is a burden, and I hate thinking about all it implies. I may have found the college to attend; it's in Minneapolis. I have a great-aunt in Minneapolis. Her oldest son is a 40+ bachelor, a violinist and a music teacher. Their last name is Kot.

An old friend I ran into on Sunday told me about the college. It has what I like. It's not so, so far away. I like it.

The Moment I Felt Most Alive.

Getting into the shower, freezing water shooting out on me: I jerked and then accepted my fate. Getting out of the shower, the half-chilled air in the bathroom felt hot on my frosty skin. I felt the warmth of my flowing blood that moment.

That was probably the safest moment of feeling most alive this year, the one that comes to my memory first.

Prompt 2.

I suppose all I do is research of sorts, for my writing. It's like asking someone, what do you do each day that doesn't contribute to staying alive and how can you eliminate it. Perhaps that's where the Stoics found themselves; I am no Stoic. I love my meat and my music, my luxurious fabrics and hours spent daydreaming.

In all the actions of my day, I find myself thinking of how I would capture the moment in words. I hardly write anymore, but I think way too much for my good.

So, here's my answer: I would get around to the business of living and wrap this world of words and dreams securely around it. That's how I would eliminate all the things that don't have their end in words.

Growth.

2010 has been a year of change, certainly, but it has been more than that.

It's been a year of growth, positive growth. I've grown in myself, in friendships, in talents, and in understanding of the world, of my place in it, and my purpose on it.

That's it; it's so much more, but that's it.

For 2011, I hope the word will be hope. I want my life to be made of green skies and blue lights.

In Hope.

December 1 - One Word. Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you're choosing the word. Now, imagine it's one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?

December 2 - Writing - what do you do each day that doesn't contribute to your writing - and can you eliminate it?

December 3 - Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (textures, smells, voices, noises, colors).

December 4 - Wonder. How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year?

December 5 - Let Go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?

December 6 - Make. What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it?

December 7 - Community. Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise , in 2010? What community would you like to join, create, or more deeply connect with in 2011?

December 8 - Beautifully Different. Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different - you'll find they're what makes you beautiful.

December 9 - Party. What social gathering rocked your socks off in 2010? Describe the people, music, food, drink, clothes, shenanigans.

Winter Winds

I'm soaking in The English Patient, by Michael Ondaatje, currently. It has been a long, long while since I've been so absorbed in a book - the last time was Keturah and Lord Death, I think. Ondaatje's sentences are weighty with meaning and poetry. I feel that if I could read this book for all my life, I would still gather some kind of new image, a new understanding.

Today a guy from my childhood asked me, again, a question pertaining to my age. What to think, I wonder.

Papa bought a new camera and it takes beautiful pictures. My brother and I walked out to the woods behind our apartments where there is a gathering of wheat, always swaying now that winter is forcing its full breath upon us. We've been going there just as the sun is making its slow way down to sleep, shimmering out above the rocking heads apocalyptically. It's hard to catch them in their swaying, but the new camera does it. I have yet to name it; it's chunky. Perhaps Marcus.

Last night we watched a movie called Joyeux Noelle, and there was a German officer whose name I can't remember.. talking to my sister later, I told her I would have married him immediately if it was possible. I told her we would have met in front of a coffee shop; he would have made a comment and I would have laughed and he would have asked me if I would like some coffee. We would meet a year later, overseas, and would fall in love; be married in France, honeymoon in Belgium and Austria, settle down in Denmark, perhaps Sweden; our son would run with him every morning in the misty hills, dew forming on their collarbones as they ran.

My sister said, Wow - you just told me your whole life story! And I mumbled, Not at all.

If that is all a life is, then how sad. Life is so full: a fig with countless little seeds juicing up and out with every bite, millions more in each fibrous crevice. A pomegranet both sweet and rich and bitter; a cup of bergamot tea. Food-related analogies are always the best ones.

As the winter winds litter London with lonely hearts

Oh the warmth in your eyes swept me into your arms

Was it love or fear of the cold that led us through the night?

For every kiss your beauty trumped my doubt

And my head told my heart

"Let love grow"

But my heart told my head,

"This time no,

This time no."

We'll be washed and buried one day my girl

And the time we were given will be left for the world

The flesh that lived and loved will be eaten by plague

So let the memories be good for those that stay

And my head told my heart,

"Let love grow"

But my heart told my head,

"This time no";

Yes my heart told my head,

"This time no,

This time no."

Oh the shame that sent me off from the God that I once loved

Was the same that sent me into your arms

Oh and pestilence is won when you are lost and I am gone

And no hope, no hope will overcome

And if your strife strikes at your sleep

Remember spring swaps snow for leaves

You'll be happy and wholesome again

When the city clears and the sun ascends

My head told my heart,

"Let love grow,"

But my heart told my head,

"This time no -

This time no."

Coming Down

Tears falling slow

From the bridge

Into the river below

In your eyes, I start to see

A starry veil,

The ocean of infinity

Moon and stars above me

Mingle with the blood

Inside my vein

These empty arms that should be

Holding you close

Through nights of winter rain

I'm trying to spell

What only the wind can explain

It's colder than ever

Coming down

I'm drowning in shallows

Cause it's in so deep

There's neon melting in the rain

Took too much powder to sleep

Cause when I hold you naked

When I see you laugh

I got a sword to stem the rivers

And cut the moon in half

Frozen stars above me

Mingle with the blood

Inside my vein

Empty arms that should be

Holding you close

Through nights of winter rain

I'm trying to spell

What only the wind can explain

It's colder than ever

Coming down

We danced wild

Kicked off our shoes

Not a cloud

In the skies to confuse

Now the sky is cold

The sea is wide

And there's nothing to be done

'Cept reflecting the sun

And scratching the mountainside

Frozen stars above me

Mingle with the blood

Inside my vein

Empty arms that should be

Holding you close

Through nights of winter rain

I'm trying to spell

What only the wind can explain

It's colder than ever

Coming down

The best songs are the ones that can double as poems. David Gray, Josh Ritter, Dave Matthews...Mumford&Sons, The Avett Brothers. Partly an explanation of why my heart is in anguish and ecstasy over their music; partly an outlet of a rumination I had ten minutes ago.

We all want to avoid becoming a statistic; we want to shine during our lifetimes, but there is a statistic to fit everyone. It's possibly why I hate mathematics so much, it's uncurved, unfeeling nature. There is no magic in math - only formulas; and while magic requires formulas, it also requires soul.

Statistics have no soul.

Odd

Feeling good.

1. I've maybe broken my thumb. Finally.

3. I'm doing things that I set out to do.

5. I'm painting again.

1: I've never broken anything and I kind of looked forward to it with a fascinated dread. Now there is a clothespin splint on my thumb, and it hurts but not unbearably, and I really hope I'm not masochistic.

3: Working on presents for birthdays and Christmas, cleaning up my room, reading things I've been planning to for years. Watching The English Patient and nearly dying from the greatness that is Count Almasy.

5: Last night and this morning I finished a girl with green skin and miscellaneous things in her hair.