So on Christmas day, I slept till noon, had a light late breakfast, and then a brisk walk in cool weather. I’m in good health and good spirits, and that, for me, is enough. I’ve thought about my family today and how much I miss and love them, but it’s not always possible to be together. I wish them the best today and always.
The gifts of the spirit: faith, hope, and love. These are the true gifts of Christmas and what we need to abide in this life. I strive to keep sight of these gifts as I move through this season of ultra consumerism. The greatest desires, the greatest gifts that we long for are intangible. It is the fruit of spirit that brings satisfaction and contentment, not objects.
Today I am making merry framing art to hang on the wall and soon making more art. I have several pieces that needed framing, and today of all days was the right day to do it. I believe the end of the old year and the beginning of the new year should be spent doing what you enjoy most. For me, that is reading, writing, and making art. This time in my studio world absorbed in creativity is solace, contentment, and joy. I refer to my studio as my fairy grot, a place where the world disappears and magic opens up a new world. It is a place where anything is possible. It is the entrance to the magical kingdom where art is right, and there are no rules. Everyone should have their own space to just be, and today I am absorbed in mine. And this solace, this refuge puts me in mind of my favorite poem by William Butler Yates. I will write the story of this poem one day soon and perhaps illustrate it, too.
The Stolen Child
By William Butler Yeats
WHERE dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we’ve hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.
Away with us he’s going,
The solemn-eyed:
He’ll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than he can understand.
So the new season of Portlandia officially arrives on January 6th. They currently have two scenes from two new episodes up on Portlandia Facebook. The more “likes” they have, the more full episodes will be unlocked. Glad their back highlighting the obvious of regional culture here.
Have a blessed day.
