I met a young man in his mid twenties over a week ago. He told me his story of how he was criss-crossing America in honor of his deceased father, who was a truck driver. He said he was going to spread his father’s ashes in different places where his father travelled in America.  His 1940’s moter bike is currently in Texas and his friend invited him to Harrisonburg for the Holidays. He said his father worked hard to support him and his mother all his life.

He had a connection to making film and wanted to interview me about my life and he asked me about dreams and meditation and finally got to the question of energy.

I have no idea what I said on that short film about energy but when that Short story below came up a few days later, I connected it to the question of energy.

Short Christmas Story

(First told to me by my friend’s daughter on the occasion of a conversation about energy.)

The old man just over ninety,  said it would be the last year he would be hosting Christmas dinner at the home he lived in for many years. He would try and sell the home of many years, where he raised children, had vast gardens, and molded his home into beautiful presentation. This announcement has a heavy chilling effect on the following two generations present, now gathered with their array of potluck dishes spread before them. Their red and festive clothes, their favorite and juicy dishes could not pull the mood away from this impending doom.

When his daughter and his granddaughter, now thirty-three, were cleaning up the very last vestiges of the meal and the gathering, when most people had left for home, something unusual happened in one of the rooms.

There were two candlesticks and an old music box on the table in one of the sitting rooms reflected in the mahogany patina.  As the two women went past the pocket doors, their high heels clacking on the golden wood, both carrying what has to be put away, after such a large gathering, they were both arrested mid step as that old music box started to turn, filling the air with the sweet melody of years gone past. This music box had sat silent since the grandmother had died refusing to be wound up and refusing to play.

In astonishment the younger woman looked at her aunt, who laughed and said that is “just grandma.” She loved music and had a lightness of spirit that came in to let her granddaughter know she was not to loose the joy of life and that a place, such as that old magnificent mansion, was not the holder of joy, but the people gracing the spaces were the only ones who carried mood and joy in together with their dishes and their festive clothes and airs.  

As the granddaughter sat there in the golden morning sunshine telling me her story about this energetic happing she gathered meaning for herself from this joyous event that just happened to her and her aunt.  A realization comes up through her  that she does not have control over her life in many ways, but she is striving after making up her own joy now. The one thing she can see is that her grandmother brought marvelous mood to the holidays. Her love of music and that of her grandmother has brought joy and happiness to the holiday gatherings.  It was enough to set the music box to twirling out the old and beautiful tune that link the finite with the infinite, the living and the ancestor, the past and the future. The end.

It is New Years Day 2020 here and I want to try and squeeze in everything I want to continue with for the rest of 2020.

I meditated in the early hours and felt my energy spreading out into a oneness with the infinite spirit. However brief a few seconds that was, before my conscious mind dragged me back to my thoughts, I am glad that that happened to me, to get my New Year off to a lovely ecstatic start.

I head a sound of breaking glass that was loud enough for me to think it was outside myself. It was accompanied with the sight of a starburst. A lighted center, from which came many prongs of light. It was of the dream world, a little vision, but I like to be amused with playing with the idea that something is breaking out inside, connected to the light.

The dream I had was of a baby, still very young. I saw a baby at work, still sitting on the lap mostly, but also almost walking, seven months old. In my dream the baby looks lovely. I seem to be caring for it, but not very well. As it falls I reach out and steady it enough for it not to hurt itself as it falls down. I think it happened twoice in the dream, this falling down. Now when I am exercising I like to think this baby is on my body, or that I am holding it, or that I am being held like a baby. It feels good to keep the image alive with me as I go about my day.

On my own this holiday season, mostly, it is easy to fall into the feelings of aloneness, waiting for others to bail me out or to binge watch old episodes on TV. But today, the first day of the rest of my life and the New Year, I am vigilant to only let in what I want to continue with in my life. I meditated after 3.00 am. I exercised. I cooked buckwheat cakes that filled the house with good smells. I have plans to visit the river. This is my writing. And I will paint a little and be outside while I do it, preferably at the river. 

I wish you all a great upcoming year my friends. Keep praying for me and I will pray we all may go straight forward wherever the spirit leads. All Love Surround you Always. 

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