Saturday, December 24, 2011


I leave for work in the dark, but at this time of year, this is not unusual. The stars are still out as I get into my car on Solstice morning, and notice a single leaf on my windshield that is green. The Solstice officially "occurred" just after midnight; I heard thunder, as though Lugh was attacking the Cailleach with his thunderbolts instead of Balor. Indeed, the morning is so warm and wet, one would not think it was the first day of winter. However, all is fair in seasonal war--sometimes it snows on the Spring Equinox. Birth and death seem all mixed up.

The skyline over the valley looks like an impressionistic painting, with mottled clouds, charcoal, peach, and a watered-down blue. The silhouettes of the fields remind me of Lovecraft's "blasted heath" though perhaps not as sinister. As I make my way towards the town of Chester, I notice that police cars sit with their lights off, waiting for speeding motorists, which makes my own slow drive feel vindicated. For no good reason, I begin to associate the police with social religion, those who uphold the laws that keep people inside the fence and away from the Collective.

The clouds look stormy all day--rich sunlight and blue sky with large chunks of area covered by angry-looking blobs of gray and black. I took a walk at lunchtime on the solstice, and noticed some kind of waxy green vine growing all along the outer wall of Florham. I don't recall seeing this vine before, and it's puzzling. There's lots and lots of it, and it almost looks ominous against the barren trees.

Arthur Machen once wrote about evil, suggesting that it was a defiance of natural law. If a rose bush started to sing of its own accord, that would smack of evil. I don't know that some of these intrusions of Spring are so "evil", but for me at least they reflect an underlying disturbance. As though things are not quite what you think or what you expect. Perhaps they are more of the "trickster" than something evil. Interestingly--the image of Satan, which we associate with evil, was actually thought to be more of a trickster figure, before theology made him a symbol of everything anti-Christian. Tricksters are very necessary, because they remind us that our stories are just that--stories. They can be changed, and sometimes should be changed.

I am not sure how I feel about 2012. I do not believe in this idea of Mayan apocalypse--I don't even think the Mayans believe(d) in that. However, it is not looking good economically or politically. On the surface there appears to be little hope--in fact, it seems things will get monumentally worse. My only hope that this is a Trickster at work, that this is part of a natural upheaval, and we will settle down to something better that is not currently apparent. Sometimes the Unknown gives us good surprises.

I am reluctant to make any predictions for 2012. The last time I made predictions, it was for a good year, settling down and being more harmonious, and in fact everything fell apart and went to sh*t. I'm not anticipating a good year, and I'm hoping I'll be equally wrong about that, and that it turns out to be the best year ever.

Usually winter break is a time to pause, for me to sit back, watch the sunrises on my week off, do some writing, catch up on pleasure reading. Not so this time--it is Christmas Eve, I need to put in student grades, and preparing for a trip to visit my sister as of Monday morning. Naturally I have another sick cat, Whiskers, with a bloodied eye and an ear infection, so both my parents and my basement cats can be traumatized when I relocate them temporarily to my parents' basement. (Shiva cat gets to stay at home, as my neighbor can care for him). I am looking forward to the trip, but we will be busy, so it will not be a time for sitting around. And I will have much work to do when I get back...and for the entire year. No rest for the weary.

I don't know if it's because I've been crankier than usual this holiday season, but I dreamt last night that John Foxx adopted a ginger cat and named it Editorial. I posted this dream to Twitter and Facebook, and received some helpful analyses from many friends--the idea of Fox (masculine/Animus) adopting the Cat (feminine/Anima), both "red images" (foxes are red, ginger cats are red), and editorial, which my friend Rob pointed out would deal with opinions. Never mind that cats have a tendency to be independent anyway. Another friend mentioned Foxx as Animus figure, which makes sense in its own way--I see a lot of my own ideals about the best in men (wisdom of being older, respect, politeness, snarky sense of humor, creatively interesting, still being sexy though older) in Mr. Foxx. I mention "crankiness" because the symbolism is very fiery and "opinionated". Which, of course, I'm not, in the same way Pope Benedict is not a Catholic.

I hope to blog at least once more before the year is out. Happy holidays, and pleasant dreams.

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