The soul has greater need of the ideal than the real for it is by the real that we exist, it is by the ideal that we live

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Chicken Little hath spoken

It'll fall here ,no wait, it'll fall there, um on third guess, it'll fall over there!

The snow predictions are coming fast and furious here today. I can tell you one thing, they don't know anymore than I do when where or if it will come.

It'd be nice to have a white xmas and sit here with a fire and have dinner with good friends and all that. But the white xmas isn't necessary. I'll have a good time anyway.

Right now it appears to be beating the crap out of Amarillo Texas, a place, that if you've ever been, you know can't really afford to give up much of it's meager beauty.

Then it seems the plan is to move out over the plains and meander. Been there done that.

It appears there is some notion that I drink to excess among my remaining family members. There was some discussion earlier this week about who was picking me up and driving me home tonight I am told. I guess that impression is my fault. I do speak fondly of gin, though I can't imagine how they got the idea that I would come to a family holiday where their children are celebrating and drink to excess as though that were ok. It wasn't ok with me when I was a kid and certain adults, whom they likely don't remember would do that, so the notion puzzles me.

Besides if I'm going to drink to excess I'll do it with people I feel comfortable around.

The hatches are battened down here just in case the snow finds it's way to my door, but I have this feeling it'll be somewhat dismal tomorrow when I wake, as it is most xmas mornings here. I went out early this a.m. and filled the gas tank so I don't have to face that in the 12 degree weather that they say is imminent. As it was there was a brisk northwesterly breeze blowing down my neck.

Feeling particularly spiritual this holiday season I thought I'd share this email i got this morning.

If it's not yet obvious to you, the real reason for this, and all seasons, is you. A more perfect child of the Universe has never lived. Until now, only celebrations cloaked in myth and mystery could hint at your divine heritage and sacred destiny. You are life's prayer of becoming and its answer. The first light at the dawn of eternity, drawn from the ether, so that I might know my own depth, discover new heights, and revel in seas of blessed emotion.

A pioneer into illusion, an adventurer into the unknown, and a lifter of veils. Courageous, heroic, and exalted by legions in the unseen.

To give beyond reason, to care beyond hope, to love without limit; to reach, stretch, and dream, in spite of your fears. These are the hallmarks of divinity - traits of the immortal - your badges of honor. May you wear them with a pride as great as the immeasurable pride we feel for you.

Your light has illuminated darkened paths, your gaze has lifted broken spirits, and already your life has changed the course of history.

This is the time of year we celebrate you.

Bowing before Greatness,
The Universe

See! We don't need mythical beings to celebrate our spirituality.

And so it goes:

No shirt and a star-studded nipple ring on xmas morning. I didn't know they put fireplaces in double-wides. Lovely sight, but time and place youngster, time and place.

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