The Winter of My Discontent

The days are growing shorter, the nights are growing colder, the rains are gathering to flood us with their fury. Winter is coming. A Season that sometimes that has evoked the comfort of homes with blazing fires, the upcoming season of light and love and sparkling lights and the shining eyes of children. But not now.

 

All I feel is the oppressive shadow like the Mordor of the myth, the evil powers with the ring in their possession and everyone kissing it to secure their place of false security. I’ve had two lovely days teaching at my old school with so much great music, exuberant dance and warmth coming from both the children I taught when they were little and the new kids on the block. But it’s not enough to offset that deep sadness that has settled into my bones.

 

I have a wisdom tooth that has a cavity and needs pulling, but I need to bear up with the pain for the next two weeks. I just read my daughter’s heartbreaking piece on the day she ended her marriage, this beautiful being who I have loved to the moon and back thrown off the wild horse she chose to ride in hopes of healing someone she has loved with the simple power of love. But trauma proved stronger and the hard lesson she’s learned is that you can’t save anyone, change anyone, heal anyone but yourself. To her credit, she has taken that to heart and gotten up from the ground stronger and clearer. But still I know it hurts and has for far too long. 

 

So darkness without and darkness within. Not depression that presses down from above and weakens your muscles of resistance. This sadness, this grief, I fully own and I choose to stay with it. To play the jazz ballad Tenderly that my Dad used to play on the organ and evoke his presence on his heavenly birthday today and let the tears trickle down, remembering hearing that music up in my bedroom as a kind of soundtrack to my childhood, oh so long ago. 

 

I started to watch the highly-recommended-from-so-many-people Jon Stewart/ Heather Cox Richardson post-election discussion, but couldn’t get past the first five minutes. I’m so far from ready to look that monster in the eye and will continue my news boycott for as long as I can, the only survival tool on my belt at the moment. My only comment is that I used to quote a character in the movie Meet John Doe about why my whole life I haven’t habitually read or watched the news—“I know the world’s being shaved by a drunken barber. I don’t have to read about it!” But now something new is in the air, as the barber may be an expert in her craft, but the “news” purposely portrays her as an incompetent drunkard and all these damn fools believe it. That’s all I can say about that at the moment.

 

Meanwhile, the storm clouds are gathering, the temperatures are plummeting, the days march toward the Solstice and all I have is this brightly lit screen to tap out these dark markings that speak out loud the feelings that somehow ask to be spoken however I can. I am walking into the winter of my discontent with my eyes wide open and my heart as well, come what may.