Musica universalis

Kissed the kids goodbye yesterday and made the long drive home. I’ll see everyone again on the 23rd when we gather for the family Christmas. I’ll have all my children under one roof, the roof of my oldest son’s home. I wish I had a large enough abode where they could all gather at my place. But we downsized in retirement. I might see if I can arrange something for next year. I have enough space on the lots for two good sized travel trailers. That sounds like a plan.

Meanwhile, I’ll spend the week wrapping presents, picking up an odd end or two, and putting the final touches on the holiday. It’s been a little melancholy this year. But every year can’t be bright and happy otherwise you’d never know when it was bright and happy. They would just all seem the same. Of course, the holiday isn’t over either. This is advent and a time for contemplation, and the Christmas season doesn’t really start until the 25th and then it runs for twelve days until the feast of the epiphany. So, there’s still time, and that’s a comfort.

And maybe rather than melancholy I’ve simply been in a contemplative mood these last several weeks. Thinking about my past, my present, and my future. Taking stock. It seemed very clear after climbing Guadalupe peak and coming back to camp that I metaphorically came down the other side of the mountain into a new day. So, I suppose, it’s good when you come into a new place to just be quiet. To look, to listen, to see how things fit together. To get the lay of the land. To see if you can discern what song the universe is singing to you before you try to sing along.