Love

All These Things and More

/ James Browning

6009209406_97be00d284_zIf my heart could be seen as living space it would be similar to the room above;

well used, a bit worn and even abused, but more than serviceable.

My heart…

…has become dusty from years of use

but is a safe place to be.

…has seen the ravages of time and grief

but loves better than it was ever able to before.

…has pieces of the past strewn all around

but plenty of safe space for feelings remain.

…has the grime and dirt of time all over it

but a joy for living lies brightly inside still.

…has a foundation of the spirit and soul that is strong

but with humility that has made room for more.

…has a window glazed with time from the inside

but light passes through softer because of it.

…has dark corners that linger and always will hang there

as scars covering pain; the teacher, that taught me well.

…has broken things within that will always remain

but they are no hindrance for love to have residence there.

Beat-up, tired,
broken, weary,
cluttered, soiled,
jaded, dark…
Alive, durable,
wise, strong,
healthy,
resilient,
passionate…

All these things and more describe the condition of my heart. It is capable of deep and more sustainable love of all kinds than ever before. To be grateful for the good that has been and yet will come, I also must have gratitude for the difficult and trying times that also helped grow my heart into the healthy state it is today.

Suffering has been stronger
than all other teaching,
and has taught me to understand
what your heart used to be. I
have been bent and broken,
but – I hope – into a better shape.
From “Great Expectations”
by Charles Dickens

In the Garden of Mystic Lovers

/ James Browning

window_foggy_by_bigbanglittlestockThe day is overcast and the sky is slate gray. Light rain is falling making the air moisture laden and foggy. For some people such a morning might set off a tinge of sadness, or even depression. But not for me. Wet and misty mornings are usually inspiration filled, often bringing deep introspection. During my morning meditation by a window that looks out onto my backyard, today I read some of Rumi’s seven hundred year old work on “love”. It’s as contemporary today as when he wrote it. Three that rang strongest in my heart and mind are below and posted with thankfulness for what the words mean to me.

I want to see you.

Know your voice.

Recognize you when you
first come ’round the corner.

Sense your scent when I come
into a room you’ve just left.

Know the lift of your heel,
the glide of your foot.

Become familiar with the way
you purse your lips
then let them part,
just the slightest bit,
when I lean in to your space
and kiss you.

I want to know the joy
of how you whisper
“more”.
Rumi

There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled.
There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled.
You feel it, don’t you?
Rumi

Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Balkhī known in the English-speaking world simply as “Rumi” was a 13th-century Persian poet, theologian, and Sufi mystic. Today his work transcends national and ethnic borders more than ever. Whatever subject I desire a little insight on or inspiration for, I always find a nugget to carry with me in Rumi’s work. Expressed again today, as many times before, I am grateful for Rumi. Through his astute perceptions he is my a dear friend and teacher.

I, you, he, she, we
In the garden of mystic lovers,
these are not true distinctions.
Rumi

One of A Kind

/ James Browning

au0LG_AuSt__77December 19, 1932 — March 9, 2013

Harry Weathersby Stamps, ladies’ man, foodie, natty dresser, and accomplished traveler, died on Saturday, March 9, 2013.

Harry was locally sourcing his food years before chefs in California starting using cilantro and arugula (both of which he hated). For his signature bacon and tomato sandwich, he procured 100% all white Bunny Bread from Georgia, Blue Plate mayonnaise from New Orleans, Sauer’s black pepper from Virginia, home-grown tomatoes from outside Oxford, and Tennessee’s Benton bacon from his bacon-of-the-month subscription. As a point of pride, he purported to remember every meal he had eaten in his 80 years of life.

The women in his life were numerous. He particularly fancied smart women. He loved his mom Wilma Hartzog (deceased), who with the help of her sisters and cousins in New Hebron reared Harry after his father Walter’s death when Harry was 12. He worshipped his older sister Lynn Stamps Garner (deceased), a character in her own right, and her daughter Lynda Lightsey of Hattiesburg. He married his main squeeze Ann Moore, a home economics teacher, almost 50 years ago, with whom they had two girls Amanda Lewis of Dallas, and Alison of Starkville. He taught them to fish, to select a quality hammer, to love nature, and to just be thankful. He took great pride in stocking their tool boxes. One of his regrets was not seeing his girl, Hillary Clinton, elected President.

He had a life-long love affair with deviled eggs, Lane cakes, boiled peanuts, Vienna [Vi-e-na] sausages on saltines, his homemade canned fig preserves, pork chops, turnip greens, and buttermilk served in martini glasses garnished with cornbread.

He excelled at growing camellias, rebuilding houses after hurricanes, rocking, eradicating mole crickets from his front yard, composting pine needles, living within his means, outsmarting squirrels, never losing a game of competitive sickness, and reading any history book he could get his hands on. He loved to use his oversized “old man” remote control, which thankfully survived Hurricane Katrina, to flip between watching The Barefoot Contessa and anything on The History Channel. He took extreme pride in his two grandchildren Harper Lewis (8) and William Stamps Lewis (6) of Dallas for whom he would crow like a rooster on their phone calls. As a former government and sociology professor for Gulf Coast Community College, Harry was thoroughly interested in politics and religion and enjoyed watching politicians act like preachers and preachers act like politicians. He was fond of saying a phrase he coined “I am not running for political office or trying to get married” when he was “speaking the truth.” He also took pride in his service during the Korean conflict, serving the rank of corporal–just like Napoleon, as he would say.

Harry took fashion cues from no one. His signature every day look was all his: a plain pocketed T-shirt designed by the fashion house Fruit of the Loom, his black-label elastic waist shorts worn above the navel and sold exclusively at the Sam’s on Highway 49, and a pair of old school Wallabees (who can even remember where he got those?) that were always paired with a grass-stained MSU baseball cap.

Harry traveled extensively. He only stayed in the finest quality AAA-rated campgrounds, his favorite being Indian Creek outside Cherokee, North Carolina. He always spent the extra money to upgrade to a creek view for his tent. Many years later he purchased a used pop-up camper for his family to travel in style, which spoiled his daughters for life.

He despised phonies, his 1969 Volvo (which he also loved), know-it-all Yankees, Southerners who used the words “veranda” and “porte cochere” to put on airs, eating grape leaves, Law and Order (all franchises), cats, and Martha Stewart. In reverse order. He particularly hated Day Light Saving Time, which he referred to as The Devil’s Time. It is not lost on his family that he died the very day that he would have had to spring his clock forward. This can only be viewed as his final protest.

Because of his irrational fear that his family would throw him a golf-themed funeral despite his hatred for the sport, his family will hold a private, family only service free of any type of “theme.” Visitation will be held at Bradford-O’Keefe Funeral Home, 15th Street, Gulfport on Monday, March 11, 2013 from 6-8 p.m.

In lieu of flowers, the family asks that you make a donation to Mississippi Gulf Coast Community College (Jeff Davis Campus) for their library. Harry retired as Dean there and was very proud of his friends and the faculty. He taught thousands and thousands of Mississippians during his life. The family would also like to thank the Gulfport Railroad Center dialysis staff who took great care of him and his caretaker Jameka Stribling.

Finally, the family asks that in honor of Harry that you write your Congressman and ask for the repeal of Day Light Saving Time. Harry wanted everyone to get back on the Lord’s Time.  http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/sunherald/obituary.aspx?n=harry-stamps&pid=163538353&fhid=4025#fbLoggedOut#storylink=cpy

Penned by his daughter Amanda Lewis as she was making her way from Dallas to Stamps’ final resting place in Long Beach, Mississippi, the late custom bacon sandwich lover’s death notice has been hailed as the “best obit ever” as it has made the rounds of social networks since it was first posted yesterday. I am grateful to get to read about a one of a kind man who loved and was loved so deeply.

Wiser, Stronger, Older…

/ James Browning

aged_feb15From an article on-line, comes these three steps about how to fall in love.
1. Find a complete stranger.
2. Reveal to each other intimate details about your lives for half an hour.
3. Then, stare deeply into each others eyes without talking for four minutes.
Psychologist, Professor Arthur Arun, has been studying why people fall in love. He asked his subjects to carry out the above 3 steps and found that many of his couples felt deeply attracted after the 34 minute experiment. Two of his subjects later got married. http://www.youramazingbrain.org/lovesex/sciencelove.htm

Falling in love is easy. I have done it a number of times in my life. Some lasted a short while; some endured for years; none lasted a lifetime. The ups and downs taught me a good deal including the following random rules for managing one’s self when starting to fall in love:

  • Be patient. Resist the urge to move too quickly.
  • Listen. Pay attention to what is said.
  • Remember what the other person tells you about his/her self.
  • Don’t sacrifice your “must-haves”.
  • Be prepared to meet in the middle on everything but “must-have’s”.
  • Let the other person be as they are; not how you wish they were.
  • Everything changes once physical intimacy begins. Put it off as long as you can.
  • Don’t judge this new love by the ones from your past.
  • Don’t pretend to be what you’re not.
  • Some people do change, but most do not.
  • A new love does not care to know about the lovers of your past.
  • Learn to sit quietly together saying nothing. Let eyes do the talking.
  • Love is not for filling holes of emptiness within.
  • Love can only make you more of what you already are.
  • Ask yourself, “could I die peacefully in this person’s arms?”
  • Without trust love never survives.

There is no question being attracted to someone is a key ingredient to falling in love. However, research has shown kindness and intelligence are very close behind. While being attracted to someone is nearly instantaneous, how kind and intelligent a person is can only accurately become known over time. Of the two, studies have shown kindness is the strongest indicator for a successful long-term relationship.

Wiser, stronger, older… with a bit more time I may actually begin to understand this thing called love. I am grateful for my progress.

Love is simple.
You fall and that’s it.
You’ll work the other stuff out.
You just gotta let yourself fall
and have faith that someone
will be there to catch you.
From “My Favorite Mistake”
by Chelsea M. Cameron

Reasons Why I Cannot Love You

/ James Browning

beautiful leaf wallpaperThe following was written by Kat George a year and a half ago for thoughtcatalogue.com. It’s well crafted and hit me hard, right between the eyes!

Don’t get me wrong—I think you’re great. I like to eat dinner across from you, quickly glancing down at the fork idly fondling my food when you catch my eye. I like the coy smiles that pass between us, and the way that once we’re both drunk you become brave enough to hold my hand, and I become excited enough to hold it back. I like it when my phone vibrates in the night and it’s you saying something completely irrelevant, just so you could text me. I like that you like me; I like what we have.

But I can’t love you. I can’t love you because I couldn’t love the one before you, and I wont be able to love the one after you. It’s not because you’re not wonderful, or because you don’t deserve to be loved. It’s because you’ve melted into those other ones—you’re all the same. None of the dinners, the lazy days spent in bed cradling each other’s naked bodies, the little things you whisper to me, none of it is new. I’ve heard and done these things before, the motions are repetitive, and my responses are habitual. I can’t love you because we don’t have that special… thing… that makes every one of these practiced encounters seem brand new.

I can’t love you because I’m measuring you against a yard-stick from long ago, and you keep falling short. Every movement you make, every tiny word you utter, I pick up and hold towards the sun to see if you’ll turn transparent and I’ll see him inside your skin. When he’s not there—and he never is—I know I’ll never be able to love you. I haven’t and I can’t move on; it’s not your fault. I know I’m being entirely ridiculous, but when he haunts my sleep and I awaken in the morning only to see your resting eyes and your mouth agape on the pillow next to me, I feel disappointed, and I hate that I feel that way. I can’t love you because I’m entangled in the past, and I’m still not ready for the future.

I can’t love you because you adore me too much. Every time I wish for you to stop flattering me, to stop agreeing with me on every little thing, to stop f#cking doing every completely nonsensical thing I ask of you, it makes me feel sick, ungrateful and mean. You’re wonderful for thinking I’m wonderful, but I can’t love you because you don’t love me for my flaws—you love me in spite of them. You don’t see me, you don’t even want to see me, for what I am—the ugly, pungent parts of my guts. You can’t and don’t want to tear these parts out of me while I scream. I can’t love you because you won’t defy me, because you won’t fight me when I’m wrong. I can’t love you because you don’t stand eye to eye with me and challenge me, demand of me, to be a better person.

I can’t love you because it’s too hard and I’m too busy. I’m so busy all the time; I barely have time to see my friends, the people I know I’ll be 80 with, if we all (God/ universe/ Mother Nature willing) make it that far. I keep trying to convince myself that you’re just not right for me but half the problem is I simply don’t have the time for you, and I didn’t realize my mental process was making these ludicrous deductions until a friend casually pointed out that I was a New Yorker now, and that New York was what was ‘happening’ to me. And here I was thinking I was just holding out for Mr. Right. I can’t love you because logically or illogically, my brain doesn’t compute having you any higher on my list of priorities.

I can’t love you because I’m happy on my own. It’s been almost a year now, and I’ve healed from the destructive force of a previous relationship. I’ve learned how to enjoy my own company and laugh at my own jokes. I can’t love you because if I do you’ll be in my bed with me at night, or worse, I’ll be at yours without my things around me. I wont be able to sleep spread-eagled, to eat crispy fried bacon in my underpants, to make plans to go out whenever I want, or to make plans to stay in whenever I want. I can’t love you because, right now, I’m enjoying my ‘me’ time far too much—I’m like a pig in sh!t. I can’t love you because for the first time in my life, I’m being selfish.

I can’t love you because I’m scared. Because I’ve been broken-hearted and I know the pain of losing something I love all too well. I don’t have another heartbreak in me, and sometimes when I look at you I imagine myself as a younger girl and I know I would have ridden into the sunset with you, had you asked, even if you were entirely wrong for me. I can’t love you because I’m so tired of love; its commitments and risks. I can’t love you because I don’t know if you’re worth the commitment or the risk and I’m not willing to find out the hard way, although I sincerely hope that one day I will be. I can’t love you because I don’t want to, and sometimes I’m afraid that makes me a bad person. By Kat George http://thoughtcatalog.com/2011/reasons-why-i-cannot-love-you/

Change the reference points from “him” to “her” and just about every word here rings true for me personally, so much so it is unnerving. Such occurrences of unexpected introspection almost always bring me lasting insight. Thank you Kat!

I love you, with no beginning, no end…
Without fear. Without expectations.
Wanting nothing in return,
except that you allow me
to keep you here in my heart…
Coco J. Ginger

Six Well Made Comments

/ James Browning

With the exception of about 100 words, today’s focus topic is love; written with pictures. Let the images paint in your heart, mind and soul meanings that are uniquely yours.

d9fe2323a72b5b1da7bda59a13be9700-d4xry5y  it__s_because_you_love_me__by_jonathoncomfortreed-d3jszaq  my_lonley_valentines_by_Calisto_Melancton 4___pencil_vs_camera_for_aoc_by_benheine-d3eaigr

Empty_Inside___Necklace_by_UntilItEnds

Key_to_my_Heart_by_SerendipitousMistake

Ultimately love is all that matters. No one has too much. We are all to some extent starved for love. The college of life has taught me this the hard way. I am grateful.

For one human being to love another,
that is perhaps the most difficult of our tasks;
the ultimate, the last test and proof;
the work for which all other work is but preparation.
Rainer Maria Rilke

* All images from deviantart.com and are the property of their individual copyright holders.

Love Letter to a Book

/ James Browning

EBBWhen first coming into view, I knew I had to have you. You were taller than most and your slim profile caused you to stand out. Even on the surface you appeared to be different from the others. Your delicate manner only made me desire you all the more. Visible gold initials identifying you gave me a hint of what you might be about. My initial impression was rewarded. You were be far beyond my first thoughts. I could not resist taking take you home with me.

Had I not titled this piece as being about a book it would be easy to surmise I had been recently smitten by a chance meeting of a lovely woman. The “lady” I met is the most beautiful copy of “Sonnets to the Portuguese” I have ever seen found yesterday at my favorite used book store. The photo above is an engraving from the book.

The “Sonnets…” were love poems written by Elizabeth Barrett in 1845-1846 for Robert Browning while they were carrying on their mostly secret courtship. Initially she was hesitant to publish the poems, feeling that they were too personal. However, once married her husband insisted that they were the best sequence of English-language sonnets since Shakespeare’s time and urged her to publish them. To offer the couple some privacy, she decided that she would publish them as supposed translations of foreign sonnets eventually settling on “Portuguese” (after Robert’s nickname for Elizabeth of “my little Portuguese”).

The forty-third “Sonnet to the Portuguese” begins “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…” and is one of the most famous poems in the world and has been very popular since first published in 1850. Last night looking through the book I was struck by a previously over looked “Sonnet” that has been added to my personal favorites; Number 20.

Beloved, my Beloved, when I think
That thou wast in the world a year ago,
What time I sate alone here in the snow
And saw no footprint, heard the silence sink
No moment at thy voice … but, link by link,
Went counting all my chains, as if that so
They never could fall off at any blow
Struck by thy possible hand … why, thus I drink
Of life’s great cup of wonder! Wonderful,
Never to feel thee thrill the day or night
With personal act or speech,—nor ever cull
Some prescience of thee with the blossoms white
Thou sawest growing! Atheists are as dull,
Who cannot guess God’s presence out of sight.

 OR A modernized version interpretation

My darling, my love, when I think
That you were in the world a year ago,
While I sat by myself, out here in the cold,
Seeing no sign of you, just silence;
I never heard your voice. I just went over all my reasons
For being always sad, cementing them
Till it seemed they could never lift, no matter
What you tried…But then I tasted joy,
All the joy that life could give!
I couldn’t see then, that I would ever experience
Thrills like this, brought on by you–your words,
Some sense of you I never saw before now!
I must be as dull as an unbeliever,
Who can’t feel that God is here, though He is out of sight.

I have a Nook, thanks to my son and love it. When I travel the little marvel saves me from having to carry the weight of books. However, there is nothing like the look, smell, texture and quality of a real book. I fear in time reading from a book will mostly be forgotten, but I hope there will be a few diehards who relish the full experience of a book as I do. I am grateful for the joy reading has always brought me and for my love of books, most especially, the poetry of Elizabeth Barrett Browning that moves me down to the core of my being.

Poetry is plucking at the heartstrings,
and making music with them.
   Dennis Gabor

Deep-Burning and Unquenchable

/ James Browning

GriderEngagement005Many events of my life, both good and bad, have faded over time. There are exceptions such as the emotions of a particular time twenty-five years ago that have remained vividly alive. Emotionally it felt like being stretched and pulled apart between two horses. I’ve carried the self-inflicted wound, inside and unseen, long enough. Telling buried secrets stop them from poisoning the soul, so here goes…

My Father left my Mother, Brother and I shortly after my 7th birthday for another woman who was pregnant with his child. The devastation and bewilderment caused me to make a little boy promise to myself: someday if I had children I would never leave them like my Father left me.

Fast forward to 1987; I’m 35, have been married twelve years and have a beautiful young son who is five years old. A restless feeling about the marriage won’t leave me alone and slowly is getting worse. The birth of my boy soothed that away for a time, but by his fifth year feeling I wanted more had returned. The Mother of my son is a caring and good person who I learned a lot about the love of family from. I will always be grateful to her and her parents who accepted me openly and gave me a sense of belonging never experienced before. There was a problem though, I was no longer “in love” with her by the mid 80s when she unexpectedly became pregnant.

The first amends necessary is to B., my first wife. I should have been a man, stood strong and expressed my feelings. The high road would have been to do what was necessary to save the marriage or move on. But I didn’t. Until a few years ago I always put the reason for my weakness and lack of action on my childhood promise to never desert a child of mine. I know even today that was a good portion of my motivation then (or lack of it), but nowhere near the complete explanation.

In my desire not to hurt anyone, I have done nothing far too often. Saying goodbye to a lover has always been very, very difficult for me. Crippled by inaction I accomplished the opposite of my intentions repeatedly in romantic love relationships. I left a path of hurt and pain, not the least of which was to me.

There is no further explanation needed to explain I was ripe to fall in love with another woman in 1987. I met her on a business trip and she was so many things women I had been romantically involved with before were not. Including the woman I was married to, my tendency had been to gravitate to dependent women. K. was instead a breath-taking beauty who was strong, self-sufficient and successful. She had no need for a caretaker but now in her late 20s was ready to make a commitment and settle down. We fell head over heals in love, but did not find a happy ending.

Time has a way of creating rearward facing clarity. The late 80’s were when the spiral into my dysfunctions began in earnest. I became far too good at deception (although years later I learned not nearly as good as I thought at the time), but I sure did deceive myself and hurt a lot of people in the process.

Absolutely and without doubt I loved K. and to this day believe she loved me. In the early months she and I shared it was my sincere intention to get a divorce so we could be together. For a year and a half we shared long weekends every month or so and even managed to pull off a week-long vacation once that contained some of the most beautiful moments I’ve known. K. and I were well matched from intellect to emotion to politics and food. For a time there was no doubt in either of us that we’d be together the rest of our lives.

Ultimately I did not have the courage to do what was necessary. I never could find the strength to ask my first wife for a divorce. About a year and a half into our relationship K. did the right thing, ended our relationship and moved on with her life. We stayed in touch casually once in a while for another ten years until I began a serious relationship that became my second marriage. A good bit of the mementos of K. and I went up in smoke from my fireplace then. The most treasured keepsakes I sent to her with a note saying I could not longer have contact with her which she honored.

I have written all this to cast four admissions into the world on K.’s behalf: 1) The love I expressed to her was true and real 2) There is a part of my heart that will always belong to her 3) I will always be grateful she loved me,  and,  4) I have carried profound regret for hurting you hidden inside me now for 25 years. I am so very, very sorry. I am grateful for the relief admitting the truth just brought me.

Love is like a friendship caught on fire.
In the beginning a flame, very pretty,
often hot and fierce,
but still only light and flickering.
As love grows older,
our hearts mature
and our love becomes as coals,
deep-burning and unquenchable.
Bruce Lee

Not Just For Now, But For Always

/ James Browning

somewhere-in-time montage“The man of my dreams has almost faded now. The one I have created in my mind. The sort of man each woman dreams of, in the deepest and most secret reaches of her heart. I can almost see him now before me. What would I say to him if he were really here? Forgive me. I have never known this feeling. I have lived without it all my life. Is it any wonder, then, I failed to recognize you? You, who brought it to me for the first time. Is there any way that I can tell you how my life has changed? Any way at all to let you know what sweetness you have given me? There is so much to say. I cannot find the words. Except for these: I love you”. Such would I say to him if he were really here.”

Those words are spoken by Jane Seymour in her character Elise McKenna in a movie that’s now thirty-two years old. As I typed those words my mind screamed, “It can’t have been that long. It just can’t be. Thirty years?!” Logic responds and ways “yes, time has flown by”.

Although not included in Richard Matheson’s book, Elise’s words in the “Somewhere In Time” movie are spoken as a famous actress on stage in 1912 to “the one” she has just fallen in love with (Richard Collier played by Christopher Reeve). Few more beautiful words to express love have ever been written.

“Somewhere In Time” has been described as overly sentimental by those who do not have the well-developed romantic nerve that runs through every fiber of my being. Many of my favorite movies are love stories which have received the same criticism. I simply don’t care and feel sorry for those who can’t know the same deep feelings. It’s a terrible loss they will never be aware of.

The 1980 movie has a deep and special meaning to me that connects me to someone I loved long ago. Clear in my memory is holding hands watching it with tears appearing for both of us more than once as we watched. The shared emotion brought us closer. It’s only a memory, but a dear one I cherish. Feeling so does not mean I wish to go back there and instead speaks of my reverence for time “she and I” shared long ago.

It is sad to me that many people have old, dear memories they hide away and never share. The politics of many relationships make talking about someone from the past difficult and inadvisable. Such behavior is why many people live together for years, yet don’t know know each other. Ego and insecurity are great curses on romance.

Until my memories were awakened I did not become aware that the fictional “anniversary” for the characters in “Somewhere in Time” was this past summer. In the story the special day Elise and Richard share was June 12, 1912. This past June marked one hundred years from that date.

In reading about the movie I was thrilled to learn it is being turned into a musical with a world premier on May 31, 2013 for a five-week run at Portland Center Stage, Portland, OR. My hope is it succeeds and goes national so I get to see it. http://portlandstagereviews.com/2012/10/23/preview-portland-center-stage-presents-the-world-premier-of-a-new-musical-somewhere-in-time/

How grateful I am for that old movie and the past romance it brings back into fully dimensioned memory. Such feelings and words melt my heart: “There is so much to say. I cannot find the words. Except for these: I love you.” WOW!

They wouldn’t understand,
and I don’t feel the need to explain,
simply because I know in my heart how real it was.
When I think of you, I can’t help smiling,
knowing that you’ve completed me somehow.
I love you, not just for now,
but for always, and I dream of the day
that you’ll take me in your arms again.
From “Dear John” by Nicholas Sparks

Peacefulness Within

/ James Browning

Christmas-Presents-dIt’s Christmas Eve and I feel genuinely happy for the second year in a row. Little outside of me has changed. I still have my share of issues, troubles and things to sort out. However, what is inside me has grown to be mostly mellow and calm. There is a peacefulness within that allows me to be more fully present in the moment than ever before. And that is the gift I am most grateful for.

Love Was Born at Christmas

It has been a lot of years since I can remember having the spirit of Christmas alive and frolicking within as I do this year. It could easily be true I have never been this happy at this time of year.  The little boy who lives inside me is enjoying reports of Santa’s progress in my direction.  The grownup within is dazzled by the feeling inside that sparkles and shines brightly like the lights of the season.  My eyes see Christmas. My ears hear the music.  My mouth tastes the food.  My nose smells the trees.  My touch feels bows and wrapping paper.  My heart is soft and childlike, yet touched deeply in mature ways.  Santa is coming.  Christ-mas is near.   

Eva K. Logue
A Christmas candle is a lovely thing;
It makes no noise at all,
But softly gives itself away;
While quite unselfish, it grows small.

Emily Matthews
From home to home, and heart to heart, from one place to another
The warmth and joy of Christmas, brings us closer to each other.

Christina Rossetti
Love came down at Christmas;
Love all lovely, love divine;
Love was born at Christmas,
Stars and angels gave the sign.

Phillips Brooks
The earth has grown old with its burden of care
But at Christmas it always is young,
The heart of the jewel burns lustrous and fair
And its soul full of music breaks the air,
When the song of angels is sung.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on Earth, good will to men!

Helen Lowrie Marshall
The merry family gatherings –
The old, the very young;
The strangely lovely way they
Harmonize in carols sung.
For Christmas is tradition time
Traditions that recall
The precious memories down the years,
The sameness of them all.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox
When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow,
We hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long ago,
And etched on vacant places
Are half-forgotten faces
Of friends we used to cherish,
And loves we used to know. 

Calvin Coolidge
Christmas is not a time nor a season, but a state of mind.
To cherish peace and goodwill, to be plenteous in mercy, is to have the real spirit of Christmas.

Augusta E. Rundel
Christmas… that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance.
It may weave a spell of nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or of prayer, but always it will be a day of remembrance — a day in which we think of everything we have ever loved.

If only for a day, the world will be just a little safer, a little more peaceful and life will arrive with a little more kindness.  Even the bad guys and criminals are not quite as busy on Christmas.  For every gift ever received I am grateful.  For every hardship and lack that taught to appreciate them I am even more thankful. Merry Christmas!

Were I a philosopher, I should write a philosophy of toys,
showing that no thing else in life need to be taken seriously,
and that Christmas Day in the company of children
is one of the few occasions on which men become entirely alive. 
Robert Lynd