New Year's Eve, 2015

We drove home from out of town in the dark last night, but the headlights and streetlights were enough to show us there was ice everywhere. All we had to do was wait for the sun to come out. And today it did, firstborn of everyday miracles that it is, and it turned things silver--trees, power lines, blades of grass. This is the third time in my life I have seen this happen and I plan to carry it with me into the New Year: the memory of things touched, shining, un-captureable, un-keepable. And real. 

Light, 12/24/15:

Today's light: fractured, bent, scattered, dimmed, hidden. Beautiful. 

I keep thinking about this.

Light, 12/23/15:

Today's light: covered-over and breaking-through, over and over. 

How many ways is this story told every day?

Light, 12/22/15:

Today's light: for one moment it was something welling up from underneath.

Light, 12/21/15:

Today's light: dim, but then this.

Light, 12/20/15:

Today's light: sparks, flashes, warmth. 

Got lost in music, in making things, in the people around me. 

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Light, 12/19/15:

Today's light: brightest in the quiet places.

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Light, 12/18/15:

Today's light: handmade. Which is really more like a tapping-in, but it still counts.

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Light, 12/17/15:

Today's light: magnetic. Reminding me of every time I realized there was nothing 

to do but turn towards whatever light I could see at the moment.

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Light, 12/16/15:

Today's light: in stark contrast. Every time the sun came out today

I realized just how much I had missed it, and felt like a new person.

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Light, 12/15/15:

Today's light: asked-for and received. The day was long, and demanded much. And so in the interest of rest I gave myself five minutes to find something. It tells me volumes about the world that there always does seem to be something.

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Light, 12/14/15:

Today's light: peripheral. The way it rests on glasses stacked in the pantry cupboard, or glazes the detail on a vase, or plays with shadow on a wall, whether anyone notices or not. Which means really it is I that am on the periphery.

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Light, 12/13/15:

Today's light: a sheen over everything. Not long ago someone I love opened up about something. It is a thing that sometimes results in walls between people, but in our case it brought a wall down. And the light resulting from that toppled wall--it is a glow around us still. It is a light I want to pull through my skin, a light I want to breathe deep into my lungs. 

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Light, 12/12/15:

Today's light: morning sun through fog, through a dirty window, through a kaleidoscope.

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Light, 12/11/15:

Today's light: quiet. The end of a busy, busy week. 

Heavy fog, and the need to rest thick around us.

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Light, 12/10/15:

Today's light: I think I will call it some sort of defiance. 

The sunrise this morning was glorious and just kept getting better. Soon after, my Facebook feed was full of sunrise pictures. There are many things to pay attention to right now. I can feel their presence on my shoulders. I am determined to pay attention, and to respond. I am also determined that part of that response is, This exists, too, alongside of all that. And it matters that it will never stop being beautiful.

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Light, 12/9/15:

Today's light: bright, in dapples and stripes. Thoughts flash and flow on a morning run; it feels as if with every step my feet are pulling them free from the earth by the roots.

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Light, 12/8/15:

Today's light: a fiery sunset, a night (mostly) at home.

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Light, 12/7/15:

Today's light: stories. This has been on my mind a lot--how listening to the stories of others can open a heart, change a mind, illuminate both the inner workings and the path ahead. This could almost turn into a thankful post.

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Light, 12/6/15:

Today's light: we decorated. It was a highly imperfect process. (Highly.) 

And beautiful things came of it, anyway.

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Light: 12/5/15:

Today's light. I have been thinking about this all night--the ability 

to create and arrange bright spots. No small thing.

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Light, 12/4/15:

Today's light: sun through a frosted car window. I took pictures before scraping. There was not time, but also there had to be. 

When Oldest came out he helped me scrape. But not before stopping to take pictures.

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Light, 12/3/15:

Today's light: what these kids can do.

Light, 12/2/15:

Today's light: honestly, today was dark. I caught the news in between private students and Violin Project, and all I could think on my way to the school was, I am going to go spread light now, because it is the only thing I can do. And I saw Oldest walking through the park on his way home, and I got to class and saw the faces of my students and the volunteers who help me and friends who teach at the school and Middle and Youngest because they wait for me after school and Oh, this work drains me but all those faces connected to all those souls--they were the real light.





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Light, 12/1/15:

So it is the third day of Advent already, and as is my tradition I am late in observing it. I did not want to short-change the month of thankfulness by ending it early. I enjoyed that daily practice. At the same time, I have been looking forward to observing Advent by watching for and marking the light I see around me. I have always loved this season, and the light-charged air (holiday lights, Salvation Army bells, snowflakes.) It is so much more than pretty, now. 

Today's light: the first rays of morning--the ones that illuminate frost and make it glitter madly until it melts from the warmth. I have never thought it was fair that frost is brought to life and destroyed by the same thing, but I will admit now that it makes the moment the sun reaches across the treetops that much more precious. 

My car was generously spread with frost this morning. Like waves of buttercream.