Jesus’ Bris/ Happy New Year!

In anticipation

of the celebration,

as is tradition,

during winter’s

dark and cold,

we release

the old

and embrace

the new

to

imagine who

we could

possibly

be.

Someone who

can do

10,000 steps?

No cigarettes?

More protein?

Much less screen?

New commitment!

A covenant!

A resolution

at the conclusion

of the year

to clear

the excess.

Yes,

birthing

is a process

and being human

involves

stress

and weakness,

but also

binding

together

finding

the better.

A new year

8 days after

the birth

of baby 

Jesus

was always

of  curious

significance

to me.

Historically,

it would 

have been

the day 

of his

circumcision

according to 

the ancient

tradition.

I’m not sure

this matters

to a world

now in tatters,

but new life

requires

more than

existence.

The insistence

on  covenant

is a  human

requirement

not just testament

old and new.

In lieu

of Jesus’

bris,

we have this

ultimate

social

celebration-

a congregation

of everyone

having fun.

It’s tradition!

So make

your

resolution

at the conclusion

of 2025.

Next year

could be

any possibility

but will 

absolutely be

much better

together.

Happy New Year!

Shame Must Change Sides

This week

in between

is really seen

as a global

holiday

season.

The contrast

is vast

between 

the miraculous

and the rest

of us;

darkness

and light

and not

just

at night.

The kindness

reminds us

that our

gifts

mend

our rifts

and drifts

from basics.

The memory

of

the year

with a new one

so near

is condensed

to the election

and the fear

of  an inflection

point.

But another

story,

details

quite gory,

is still

quite worthy

of our

consideration.

In France,

was a

trial

so vile

it was almost

beyond

comprehension.

Gisele Pelicot

didn’t know

she was 

being drugged

and raped

and video taped

by her spouse

in their house

while men

he arranged,

(this is all

so deranged),

to violate

her

as he watched

dozens

of them

over dozens

of years.

It sears

the heart

and brain.

In 2024

Gisele

could restore

herself

and us

with justice.

The disregard

of humanity,

the insanity,

and the evil

lengths

to which

people

will go

for their

libido 

and ego

satisfaction

is not

the story’s

end.

With unfathomable

strength

and grace

she reminds

us 

to face

and say

what is so:

“Shame

must change

sides.”

Gisele Pelicot,

my shero.

Beyond

2024,

though

we will

have to endure,

we shall

restore,

and

it will

surely be

a rough ride.

Shame 

must change

sides!

And hope

resides

in action.

Old Spice

It stinks

to holy hell-

the old man

smell-

that leaves

the future

behind.

Like bad

body spray

that won’t go

away,

the redolence—

the prominence

and dominence

of intolerance—

is fetid.

Shamelessly 

reeking

while constantly

seeking

money

and political

support,

intent to 

distort

and contort

the law,

I remain 

in awe

that he can

clench

the nomination

with the stench

of abomination.

Ballot removal

has found

approval

in some states

thus far.

His odor

persists

as he 

insists

he’s clean

as he vents

his spleen

on the rest

of us.

Meanwhile,

the elder

once fiesty

pol

needs to call

a life line.

He smells 

fine,

but too benign

and in

decline,

which is sad

and also

terrifying.

Gimme that

Old Spice

as when 

he was

Vice,

or entice

someone

else to run.

Voters want

vim

and vigor,

(and some 

want vinegar);

we can’t 

let it

all

come undone.

The new year

upon us

when we’ll

vote for 

the POTUS

should be

one for 

the ages.

And their

ages 

will play

into the fray

with a bouquet

of toilet water. 

So hold

your nose;

here it goes:

2024 is here.

Volunteer.

Persevere.

Be sincere.

And vote.

Here’s 

to a high note

ending

with all

that’s impending:

we’ll be

sending

the offending

away.

Rhythm and Blues

The losses 

of the last 

year

were mostly

unforeseen.

Some were

not

utterly surprising,

yet 

not necessarily

expected

to be

that way

looking 

back

a year

ago.

Some 

loss

was

shocking.

Some was

revelatory.

Perhaps

as surprising

and

unapparent

was

resilience

quietly

strengthening

without

force;

just

enduring

with 

hidden

suppleness.

The soft

strength

of endurance

like

water

constantly

flowing

over

rocks

has been

the most consistent

story;

more

pervasive

than

more

obvious

loss.

We

keep

going.

Sometimes

we think

we need

to know

how.

Life

after

loss

feels

impossible

and heavy

but

the softness

of air

flows

anyway,

whether

or not

we

notice. 

When we

hold our

breath

we 

try to

suspend

time.

But

oxygen

wants

to

flow—

to circulate,

to beat

tha

thump

and maintain

the rhythm

of

being

into

a new year

with new

possibility.

January Jonesing

Somehow, so many accomplishments of 2015 were forgotten in the final season, as acts of terror, violence, and hate saturated our media and our senses, and left us feeling helpless, somewhat hopeless, and terrified. And disgusted. Violence and hate seem to be not only timeless, but endless, and less and less about a moment than a terminal condition.

January, in the middle of winter, is the fresh start we always crave and celebrate. She seems barely approachable when the fall always seems to surprise us with crashes or severe storms or political upheaval (even just elections), and we think we will be settled into a new calm and yet be invigorated.

January is alluring in her cool, which we desire after tempests and the inflammation that we tend to experience with intensity by December. 2015 exited with practically unbearable inflammation— mostly The Donald’s, but also with terrorists and other horrifying violence here, there, and everywhere.

January’s attraction is undeniable. She is quiet, but seemingly purposeful. She has a quality of purity, but not innocence. She is serious and clearly intentional, seeming to know what we want. She seems so wise, yet untainted. We’ve been jonesing for her cool.

Of course, January will become icy. That’s her way. She will become indifferent and then harsh. Bitter cold. Even in warm climates, January becomes another pretty face. She may be pleasant; even lovely for a while. I just recognize her. She’s beautiful, and can be friendly—or at least mild—but her nature yields to indifference and even harshness . That’s how cool is.

She lets us make the first move. But for some, they are already frozen. That first date was ignored, other than an opportunity to chill. They are needing some warmth—not fiery passion, but a bit of warmth to be able to slowly thaw. January doesn’t really offer much warmth, but she seems rather calm and composed, especially when we first see her. Maybe her cool is warm enough, even at a low temperature, to allow the rational to take over—at least for a bit.

By the end of the year, we are jonesing for January. Our overwhelming need for calm and cool may not be sustainable, but it is necessary, and we feel it and know it. We desire her, even knowing we can’t be with her for very long. We may forget that she is the way she is, just as we forget the way we are.
January is beautiful. She attracts our best intentions and our desire for excellence and progress. Her quiet is temporary, and allows us to think, even as we are smitten by the prospect of something new with her. And although she is the way she is, and we are the way we are, causing us to part, we long for her after a year of steps and missteps; assaults and breakthrough moments. January is a vision.