For me the festive December break has always been a time of stories. From the fantasy of theatre, to the drama of the big screen, from a page turning novel, to heart rending musical traditions, we love stories that help give shape, weight, and texture, if not meaning, to our place in the world.
The stories I’ve enjoyed over the season, and indeed throughout the year, have given insight to how things used to be, how things could be in the future, and how things might be in other people’s lives… Stories colour the fringes of our reality, but my present is the hoovering, filling a crack, and painting the wall, planning the tea, and briefly sitting with a glass of water in the winter sun.
The winter’s sun is remarkably quiet and still. The January dawn lights up corners of the kitchen that are usually in shadow. The moss on the garden wall sparkles with beads of dew… The new year sunrise illuminates the woods, transforming the dense dark dearth into variegated vibrant verbs.
In the new light, the small can become big, and the big be made small…
In the ‘New Year’ our cultures construct new stories, ‘they’ suggest targets, ambitions, routines, and goals. But in this small quiet moment I’m just breathing in the new light… the church bell chimes twice… and a crow caws thrice… “Do things well…” she says, “be diligent… share compassion…” she crows…
Keep looking for light amongst the words. Light can be quiet, powerful, and exciting…
Jules P Richards 