The Eve of Tomorrow

The last week of the year is one of my favorite times.  It’s filled with such a unique variety of feelings.  There’s a lovely ahhhhh feeling as the world breathes a sigh of relief for having once again survived the holiday season.  I also love the jumble of feelings that arise from reflecting back about what happened in my life and in the world over the past year, both the good and the bad.  The media seems to be doing less and less of that, perhaps because life has speeded up so much we no longer have time for it.  We can barely keep up with everything that’s happening right now.  Who’s got time to think about last summer or even last week?  Yet, I think it’s important to review how we did so we can set the direction we want to go in for the new year.

One of the best year-end feelings is that delicious anticipation of a brand new, crispy and unblemished year.  If we’ve had a good past year, we may want to continue in the same direction, with perhaps just the tiniest bit of fiddling or refinement in what we’re doing.  If we’ve struggled through the year, faced too many challenges or simply gone off track of what we really wanted to do, we can resolve to learn from what happened and make changes in our lives.  We can set new priorities based on where we are and where we want to go.

Having something to look forward to is an essential part of life.  Children do it naturally.  Even young adults do it with relative ease.  But it becomes even more important as we get older, when, ironically, we do the opposite and spend more time looking back on “the good old days” then we do looking forward to even better times.  So we need to do it deliberately.  We need to plan to do things that we can still get excited about.

I don’t generally make New Year’s Resolutions, per se, but I do think about what I’d like to do in the new year, the activities I’d like to do more of and the ones I’d like to do less of or give up entirely.  Then I choose what areas I’d like to focus on, rather than trying to come up with specific resolutions, because setting concrete goals is mostly just to help people keep score.  Since I’m lucky if I accomplish even a tenth of what I’d like to do, I’d rather not be faced with any exact numbers.  Keeping a tally would make my life look more like a series of failures than successes.

This past year my three main priorities were continuing my clutter-reducing efforts, catching up on some of the maintenance I had let slide the previous year, and working on the sequel to my book.  Of course, health (physical and mental) is always on the list; it’s only the particular aspect that changes.  For 2012, it was simply to survive, especially considering the world was supposed to end.

Clutter reduction was wildly successful.  That is, I’m convinced I managed to get rid of more stuff than I acquired.  Or else I’ve figured out how to delude myself into thinking I’m getting better at letting stuff go.  Either way counts as a success.  Maintenance wise, I probably broke even.  I caught up on some things but fell behind with others.  I did, however, reduce future maintenance by getting rid of two fruit trees and an unruly evergreen.

That leaves my creative aspirations for the past year.  Sigh.  The best I can say about those is that I did spend a lot of time thinking about the sequel, planning it out in my mind, and coming up with new and better ideas for it.  But the truth is, I replaced most of my creative activities with Chris Isaak adventures.  And I have no regrets at all about doing that.  My memories of 2012 will forever define it as a “Chris Isaak” year, with both amazing highs and challenging lows.

I do feel that everything that happened in 2012 has positioned me well for expanding my creative endeavors in 2013.  So I have great hopes of finally tackling the sequel to my book.  I would also like to do a little cartooning, even though I’ve yet to master the art of drawing a stick figure.  Then there are another dozen projects I’d love to try—everything from creating a humorous YouTube video to publishing an online magazine (a special edition filled with creative stuff).  And I always have a multitude of music-related ideas clanging around in the back of my mind, none of which I have any real knowledge of or natural aptitude for, which means they generally remain as nothing more than intriguing possibilities.  Still, there’s no telling when I might suddenly become inspired to pursue one of them.

Those are pretty big dreams for 2013.  In fact, there’s enough to keep me busy for several years.  Everything else on my list feels less important.  Sure, I’d like to break even once again on my maintenance and continue to make at least a little progress at reducing my clutter and simplifying the routine of my life.  And instead of just surviving, I’m shooting for more moments of happiness and appreciation for all that I have.  Discovering some new thought-provoking books would be a real bonus.  I’ve been in a slump lately when it comes to picking books and can’t find any to get excited about or recommend to others.  But I’d like my main focus to be on creativity.

There, it’s done.  The old year has been mulled over.  Priorities have been set for the new year.  My life is all neat and tidy—for this one day, at least.  And it’s such a good feeling, this sense of completion and of being ready for what comes next.  So look out 2013.  Here I come.

Cutting Back On Christmas Stuff After 60

By Guest Author Cheryl Anne Stapp

This year I’m really going to do it: clean out all the Christmas clutter that’s accumulated since my marriage twelve years ago.  Our first house together was small, with just enough room for a two-foot tree atop a plant stand, a miniature crèche on the mantle, and a wedding-gift crystal bowl filled with bright scarlet balls.  Then we bought a bigger house, with plenty of room for a five-foot tree that required many more ornaments, not to mention the purchase of side tables that practically invited holiday whatnots to sit on their glass tops.

Today the stored boxes of Christmas paraphernalia take up two six-by-seven foot cabinets in the garage, not counting the space for the artificial tree.

True, each of us had a few ornaments from our single years—insufficient, in the eyes of someone (me), who prefers a Victorian-style Christmas tree to the Minimalist Look.  After placing the gossamer-winged, little-girl painted angels (his), the Cheshire Cat and White Rabbit set (mine), our combined assorted baubles, and ten just purchased, adorable tiny drums, the outer branches were still pretty bare, so I bought a dozen six-inch silk poinsettias in red and cream to slide into larger areas.  Ceramic angels and bisque Santas (his) smiled from the side shelves of our oak entertainment center; my red velvet-robed Santa figure (and two more I couldn’t resist at crafts stores) surveyed the room from its top.  Unfortunately, the five-foot tree’s lights failed toward the end of that holiday, so during the after Christmas sales we upgraded to one that is seven feet tall.

This must have been when my obsession with acquiring yet more Christmas stuff took hold—in the full knowledge that there would be two more feet of tree to trim the following year and for the foreseeable future thereafter.  I no longer remember exactly when each piece of an expanding collection snuck into the house; only that at some point I became besotted with that Twelve Days of Christmas song.  I was thrilled to learn that each verse has inspired the manufacture of iconic holiday décor, available in all sorts of retail outlets, if only one keeps a sharp eye out: partridges, pears, drummer boys, golden rings, song birds, and the like, although admittedly maids-a-milking are hard to come by.

On one Sunday drive into the foothills, I scored four wooden partridges balanced on carved yellow pears—tree ornaments—from a going-out-of business bed and breakfast.  Another year I hummed all the way home after snagging a magnificent, two-foot high tin drummer boy (on sale!) enameled in vibrant reds, cobalt blues, and creams edged in gilt, to stand on a side table.  Trips to a local craft emporium yielded a whole matched set, and some extras, of feathery-tailed song birds to clamp on tree branches.  Somewhere along the line, blown-glass angels, delightful Santa tree hangings in a multitude of artistic styles, and balloon-shaped, beribboned and bejeweled tree trimmings all found their way into my shopping cart.  The pair of spectacle-wearing Santa and Mrs. Claus Christmas stockings for the mantel seemed, at the time, the ideal fit, even if I did have to purchase separate heavy, hooked holders to hang them from.  As to when I acquired those three tall nutcracker statuettes or the multiple boxes of ordinary tree-balls for “fill-in,” my mind is a blank.

My bridegroom contributed, too.  Over the years he brought home a darling set of box-displayed Twelve Days wooden figurines, a beautiful porcelain salt-and-pepper-shaker bunny duo bedecked with tiny wreaths, and two magical plug-in tree ornaments that move, light up, and make noise when the tree lights are turned on.  We smile every year to unwrap Hallmark’s tiny cream-colored cat with moveable legs and the little Mickey Mouse for the tree’s upper branches.  We’re also proud of the two sets of exquisite porcelain reindeer we display from December through January.

But it’s all gotten to be too much.  The lights on that seven-foot tree have given us grief for at least two years now, and we’re determined to downgrade to something smaller, come this year’s sales.  There’s just the two of us, and after all we’re both over sixty—who needs all this strictly seasonal stuff that’s such a headache to disassemble and pack away each year?  It’s going, I swear.

Well…most of it, anyway.  Actually, the pricey Fitz & Floyd salt-and-pepper-shaker bunnies and the elegant Fitz & Floyd reindeer sets aren’t just holiday décor—they’re loving gifts to a wife from her husband to be treasured, aren’t they?  Would the Drummer Boy be happy to find himself on a Goodwill shelf?  I do believe it’s time for the Santa and Mrs. Claus Christmas stockings to find a new home, seeing as how we always feel obligated to stuff them with little Christmas morning surprises and we’re really too old for that now, aren’t we?

Okay, piles of extraneous stuff are leaving my house…but not, I think, the good-sized, Swedish made, Nativity scene I bought four years back or the enameled drummer boy or those carved partridges.  The rest, though, especially the mass-produced tree ornaments and the battery-operated singing snowmen, are toast—if not before December 2012, then sometime in 2013 for sure.

* * * * *

AUTHOR INFO:

A native of Sacramento, California, Cheryl Anne Stapp returned “home” in 2000 when she married a former high school friend.  Before that she had lived in Los Angeles for many years, where she was a contributing editor to Working World magazine.  She graduated from California State University, Northridge.

Website:  California’s Olden Golden Days
Facebook:  Cheryl Stapp

BOOK INFO:

Disaster and Triumph:  Sacramento Women, Gold Rush Through the Civil War by Cheryl Anne Stapp is a thoroughly engaging history of chaotic times, told from the viewpoint of pioneer women who survived major fires, devastating floods, and other disasters, while lending their talents and energies to the development of California’s enduring capital city.

Available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle edition.

Walking the Labyrinth…

Chartres Cathedral Design
Labyrinth

I am not that big on rituals but I have always been fascinated with the physics and mathematics of numbers. So it was I decided to attend a celebration of last year’s 11:11:11 date.  After all, apparently I am an eleven master number in the science of numerology. I don’t consider myself a master of anything but it can be a good point of conversation in the right gathering.There were several events I could have attended but when I found one in a nearby church that mentioned a walk of a labyrinth, I was intrigued and signed up immediately.

I had never walked a labyrinth and did not do any research beforehand, choosing to simply go with the Zen flow for the day. I arrived early as was suggested. Though the place was packed, immediately I walked in I felt that sense of hushed Grace often found in the soaring ceilings of an old church.

St Paul’s Anglican Church has a story all its own. The original timber structure was built in 1889 to fulfill the spiritual needs of railway workers who had settled into modest housing in a new district with a small port called Yaletown. Yaletown quickly became a rail transport hub and warehouse sector which was not conducive to family living. Residents moved to yet another new neighbourhood dubbed the West End. In 1898 the church was placed on skids and winched up to a more central location on a corner lot there.

By 1903 the congregation had grown to such an extent the church could not house them. Once again the original building was moved – to the next lot over, leaving the corner lot free for a new church. The handsome new frame and stone church was constructed in Gothic style with many glorious stained glass windows, imposing dark wood beams and wainscoting. The cornerstone of the original church was laid in the new structure in 1905, and the new and old churches stood proudly side by side. The old church was used as a hall until around 1929 when a new hall was built on its footprint. The only item remaining of the creaky old church is an historic window which was placed in the west wall of the Gothic church. In 1976, the City of Vancouver designated the ‘new’ church a heritage building. It can rest easy now, knowing it cannot be torn down and the integrity of its design cannot be altered.

In the mid 1980’s the church recognized that the West End demographics had changed dramatically. A series of new rectors shepherded it through a re-invigoration that found the church better servicing the needs of its community. It now stands as a welcome and welcoming sanctuary for not only its worshippers but for all residents. Its four ‘ministries’ are: Hospitality; Healing; Worship; Reflection. To this end, among other things the forward-thinking church provides advocacy service for those in need, and support an outreach self-help group drug and alcohol recovery house.

In 1997 a forty-two foot replica of the design of the labyrinth laid in stone in AD 1201 at Chartres Cathedral in France, was painted on the beautiful hardwood floor of the hall. It was the first indoor labyrinth in Canada. It is open to the public daily, ‘welcoming all who seek a place of meditation and prayer’.

That auspicious day in November I did not walk the Labyrinth, but watched as many others did. The hall was packed, music was playing, and I wanted to take in the entire experience of the energy of the group. We were given a demonstration of a suggested way to walk a labyrinth but were advised there was no right or wrong way and to find our own pace. I knew I would be back to walk it when there was chance of more solitude.

Shortly after that day I left on an extended visit to Australia. Though I’d vowed to check into the labyrinth experience further upon my return and had a brochure placed visibly on a side bureau, somehow I had put it out of my mind – until recently when I joined a new Meetup group in my ‘hood which led to an invitation to attend a group meditation. When I opened the flyer for the event and discovered it was being held at St. Paul’s Labyrinth, I immediately responded with a ‘hell, yes!’ (though of course my reply was issued somewhat more delicately).

The meditation was wonderful, accompanied by the lovely mellow sounds of ‘singing bowls’ – harmonic bells of brass or crystal played with a padded gong. I went early in order to walk the labyrinth and the experience was as magical and mystical as I’d imagined.

Labyrinths have a long history, dating back at least as far as 2500 years BCE. According to Wikipedia, several labyrinths appeared simultaneously on ancient Earth in cultures as diverse as Native American, Indian and on islands of the White Sea in Russia.

Not to be confused with a maze which is designed as a puzzle and can trap one, the labyrinth has one entry which leads to a path designed to travel around a circle, square, rectangle or other shape, ending in a centre where the traveller is encouraged to pause in reflection before making their way back along and exiting the same path. Most labyrinths are fairly simple but there are many which are far more elaborate. Labyrinths can be found indoors painted or inlaid on floors or constructed of stone or tile mosaics; they can be found outdoors in a plethora of ways including pathways of turf, cobblestone, tile, pebbles, outlined in lights or candles, shrubs, even monoliths – the possibilities are endless. The Labyrinth Society features a number of all types on their site.

For some the labyrinth experience is considered a symbolic ‘Pilgrim’s journey’; for some it is an experiential meditation; for some it is profound; for yet others it is simply a moment of peace and calm in busy lives. Walking the Labyrinth has become at least a weekly journey for me. The experience changes but almost always touches my heart in some way.

I was in the middle of finishing up the last of this blog when I had one of those magical serendipities which always seem blessed in some way. I was attending a BBQ with a group of business-minded folk when a newcomer arrived on the scene. I introduced myself and asked her what she did. I was floored when she replied she was ‘the labyrinth lady’, and added that she had built a labyrinth in the ‘burbs in conjunction with the City of Surrey. I discovered too, that she was the artist who sold the beautiful carved wood ‘finger labyrinths’ I had seen at St. Paul’s Church.

Later I noticed the labyrinth lady had laid out a portable painted canvas labyrinth on the grounds and I immediately removed my shoes and took the journey as the sun was setting. Another glorious experience!

Walking the Labyrinth at BBQ

Labyrinth built by ‘Labyrinth Lady’ Diana Ng – http://labyrinthlady.ca/

As if that were not enough serendipity, I was polishing this piece off three days before it was scheduled to be posted (and on the originally planned post date which was delayed) and found a notice in my inbox inviting me to try out yet another new Meetup group called ‘Vancouver Walking the Labyrinth’! There was an event the next day at the same beach on which we had the BBQ – a place I had not previously visited in several years and has a huge expanse of sand reaching into the sea. The experience was to be a labyrinth drawn in the sand by the facilitator at low tide, accessible by navigating a series of tide pools and mud flats. Naturally, I signed up toute de suite.

Walking the Labyrinth Spanish Banks 08-31-12

Labyrinth at Spanish Banks designed by Les Blydo
http://walkingalabyrinth.blogspot.ca/

The day dawned bright and clear with a touch of cool in the air and the last blue moon until 2015 hanging directly in front of my picture window and over the very far shore water on which the beach stands. The Chartres-design labyrinth was beautifully drawn in large scale, 1.6 times the size of the one in the church. As if ordered up especially for us, the sun shone bright on me and the old and new friends with whom I shared the journey of walking barefoot on shifted sands. The tiny ripples which kept us on our toes, so to speak, only added to the pleasure of the walk. An unusual element of sound was added to the mix by a woman who is a certified labyrinth facilitator. This interesting woman occasionally plays the cello (be still my heart!) as accompaniment at the St Paul’s labyrinth. I look forward to getting to know her. As I walked the circular labyrinth paths I caught glimpses I seldom see of my side of the bay, and could see further out into the ocean and deeper into the entire metro area than from my normal vantage point. The entire experience was grandly, viscerally expansive.

Square Labyrinth

Discovering the magic of labyrinths has been like a coming home to me. If this sparks a chord in any of you, I am pretty certain you will find a nearby labyrinth within which to experience your own journey; a quick internet search brought up eleven in my home town. I know I will be sure to look for public labyrinths in many of the places I visit in the future. On a whim I checked Bend, Ore, a town of fewer than a hundred thousand souls that I visited this spring. There are four there.

Who knew such magic was so freely available…

Lighted Labyrinth

Pictures, quotes and historical information taken from St. Paul’s Anglican Church website and/or their Labyrinth brochure by permission.