The Dark Days of December
Today we continue our Holiday Season Extravaganza. Between now and December 25, we will share what it means to celebrate the holidays — Life in Pencil style.
Posted by Elizabeth
“And once again, as the year draws in, it feels as if a page has turned. A page – a card – the wind, perhaps. And December was always a bad time for us. The last month; the dregs of the year; slouching toward Christmas with its skirt of tinsel dragging in the mud. The dead-end part of the year looms; the trees are stripped three-quarters bare; the light is like scorched newspaper; and all my ghosts come out to play like fireflies in the spectral sky.”
~ “The Girl With No Shadow” by Joanne Harris
Last week I was talking with Heidi, who was relaying to me how hard the stretch from Halloween to Christmas always is for her. “It’s a time of so many endings,” she said. “It’s as if every emotion, every experience we’ve collected throughout the year has to be revisited again. We unpack the decorations – things we haven’t looked at for a year – and we remember.”
I had never before considered the inherent melancholy the end of the year brings, the darkness often subsumed by twinkling parties and fizzy champagne, fireworks and happy resolutions, silver and gold. Coincidentally (or not?), for the past few weeks I’ve been reading The Girl With No Shadow, the sequel to Chocolat, which takes place during the exact period of time that Heidi mentioned is so difficult for her – and I suspect, at least to some degree, for all of us. Never in my life have I experienced a December so full of endings – some good and needed, some difficult and painful; intensified, I’m sure, by the feeling of finality that the end of the year naturally brings. I’ve slept poorly for days, my slumber undoubtedly disrupted by a heavy feeling that a phase of life is ending, emotion pressing in around me from all sides. Change is good, I tell myself, but it’s never easy.
These are the darkest days at the end of the year, when memories and emotion flap around me like a long trench coat dancing madly in the wind. We are forced to remember the events of the year – good, bad, and ugly – before we can move forward; Baby New Year doesn’t let us escape so easily. I unpack my Christmas ornaments, my tree not just a tree but a collection of memories. Every ornament is a bluebird, my animal totem, and unpacking the box is like unearthing a piece of my soul. I gently finger each delicate ornament. There are bluebirds in nests, huddled together on branches, perched in birdhouses. Some are thin, some are fat. Some sport long billowy tail feathers, others a flowery curl of gold. There is the first one, a gift from my mother 20 years ago, a fat bluebird with pointed wings, which always holds a place of honor on a special bough. There is the ornament my friend, Holly, gave me years ago, which she fashioned by hand from an old bluebird-shaped Christmas light that screwed onto some Oregon Christmas tree 50 years ago. Nearly half the ornaments on the tree are from my mother-in-law, who took over the collection when my mother died, and who amazes me every year with her ability to unearth new ones. No two ornaments are alike, and each bluebird contains a specific memory and meaning, such that when I look at the tree in its entirety I see a life stretched before me.
I light the tree during the day, the house an otherwise gray cave, and I stare at it constantly, the winking lights slicing through the darkness around me and in me and through me. The lights offer hope during these long, difficult days of memories and endings and goodbyes, a constant reminder that it won’t always be dark. I do some reading on bluebirds, hoping it will offer me some comfort, some clues. Bluebirds symbolize a passage, a time of movement into another level of being. They are a reminder that we are born to happiness and fulfillment, but we sometimes get so lost and wrapped up in the everyday events of our lives that our happiness and fulfillment seem rare. Bluebirds are gentle and unaggressive, but are very scrappy when threatened. It hits me: this December has been an assault on my very being, threatening the core of my happiness. I have had to be scrappy and pushy and defend my territory, even when I didn’t want to. But those lights; they are an ever-present reminder that from death comes rebirth. Each goodbye brings a new hello. Each ending a new beginning. Each painful memory a happier one. There is duality in everything, perhaps more so than ever as we take our final steps towards the witching hour of the winter solstice, when day and night shares equal time dancing across the landscape. Change is never easy, I tell myself, but it is good. But today, I am grateful that January is just a page away.
What do you think? Do you feel the year drawing to a close? Does December feel different than other months?
I have to brag on my friend, Sarah, who just sent me one of most thoughtful, soulful, and beautiful additions to my bluebird Christmas tree. Her mom, Peggy, painted this gorgeous ornament for me, which I adore. It certainly added some light to what has been a dark December for me.
December 16th, 2009 at 8:17 am
You know there are many Decembers that I do feel this way, sad to see the year end because of all of the great things that happened and a little nervous about the New Year. But this year is different. I remember this time last year the company I worked for was falling down around my ears. By February 18th it was shut down and I was without a job. I was without a job for 2 1/2 month, and let me tell you they were long and hard, and I wasn’t sure I would ever find a job.
So the fact that right now I have a great job and an addition to the family coming in June, this December is a little different for me, it’s a little brighter and January really isn’t so scary.
December 16th, 2009 at 9:08 am
What an exquisite piece of writing, Elizabeth. I’m not sure how I stumbled upon your site, but what a treasure it has become to me during this season of giving.
It is no secret that we humans have a visceral, biological reaction to the shortening of the day. There is indeed a literal reason why we are so hard-pressed to get everything done at this time of year: we have less sun to light our paths. But maybe there is a hopeful metaphor to be found in the solstice as well: the days grow darker until late December, but the light starts to reclaim its territory before the calendar turns. Maybe there is light waiting for us in 2010.
December 16th, 2009 at 9:22 am
Thanks for your lovely thoughts, Kristen. I find that same hopeful quality in the solstice, too. I’m glad you found us — however you found us!
December 16th, 2009 at 9:24 am
Really nice post, and nice meditation on this time of year. I always have a split reaction…sad the holidays are over, and relieved to be starting something new…moving towards the light of the New Year.
December 16th, 2009 at 9:54 am
I’ve been waiting for this post all week!
December 16th, 2009 at 2:03 pm
I actually love that closing feeling at the end of the year. To me it represents an opportunity to rest, hibernate, lie fallow, etc. It’s a time to be still and quiet. And I love that. I’m not inclined to slow down very frequently, and so I relish a time of year that seems to beg for respite.
I also love your ornaments. They are beautiful.
December 16th, 2009 at 2:14 pm
Hmm, everyone’s different reactions to the end of the year give me a clue that perhaps our feelings about endings have something to do with our attitudes towards change in general. Topic for future New Year’s blog post to explore more deeply, I think!
December 17th, 2009 at 2:20 am
In mythology, the bluebird is the universally acknowledged sign of happiness, prosperity, good health, and the arrival of spring. The beautiful blue of its plumage is associated with the sky and eternal happiness. Unlike the swallow, it does not have a ‘dark’ side.
In magical symbology the bluebird represents confidence. And in the Valentine myth, the Bluebird is a ‘man of laughter’ and symbolizes happy love. Because of its benign qualities, it has become a favourite subject in European fairy tales — and song. ‘The Bluebird of Happiness’ became a popular song in the 1940’s.
According to one Native American tribe, the first-born son of the Sun was called Bluebird. Another myth hails the bluebird as the spirit associated with the rising sun. A dead bluebird is associated with loss of innocence and disillusionment.
In Korea, legend has it that the Bluebird flutters around humans and reports back to the gods. ‘A little bird told me,’ could well apply to the bluebird.
Traditionally, the bluebird (or depending upon your belief, the swallow) is tattooed on one side of a sailor’s chest when he can claim 10,000 miles at sea. When he has clocked 20,000 nautical miles, the sailor may apply the bird’s mate to on the other side of his chest. A pair of bluebirds together is a sign of the well-travelled sailor.
December 17th, 2009 at 2:26 am
http://iconicrealism.blogspot.com/2009/03/blue-birds-and-iconic-realism.html
By Jeanne Iris Lakatos:
“The Theory of Iconic Realism: Understanding the Arts through Cultural Context
Iconic realism involves the placement of an icon within the midst of a unique realistic setting, out of place for this particular icon, creating a momentary static coalescence of the icon with the designated realism. Since both the icon and the realistic setting represent an aspect of a specific culture, the resulting friction between these two entities is the catalyst that generates enlightenment of a cultural dilemma.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Bluebirds and iconic realism
The other day I went for a walk down my street. This was especially thrilling because I’ve been constrained with an orthopedic boot on my left foot for the past six weeks. It felt wonderful to be walking passed the farms again. The goats, sheep, llamas, cows, horses all seemed to perk their heads up and smile at me as I treaded once again upon the familiar path. It was brisk, for I live in New England, and winter doesn’t want to give up its stronghold just yet. However, over my head flitted two beautiful bluebirds, their brilliant blue feathers glistening in the bright, early spring sun. At this moment, I realized why these are my favorite birds, and I knew this walk was a blessing.
Then, it occurred to me. These bluebirds were another example of iconic realism, for bluebirds are iconic associations with joy, summer, and general calm. They were flying from tree to tree, realism. Yet, it was so bitterly cold outside. This juxtaposition brought to my attention the cultural dilemma of the importance for us humans to maintain appropriate stewardship of our world. So many beautiful, valuable, fragile creatures’ lives are at stake.”
December 17th, 2009 at 5:56 pm
I find, during this time of year, that I have mixed feelings for, both, the past, present and future. I too pull my ornaments out one by one. Reminiscent of Christmases past that now only hold a melancholy memory of joy and I wonder, “will this year’s Christmas be as good as last year’s, or the year before that?” I am a man that always has my expectations so high that neither I nor my family can attain. I then find myself blindsided when it all doesn’t go according to plan.
Will I ever let go of the Christmas past and embrace the Christmas present. Will I let the Holidays and life not go according plan and just be? Not wondering what the next year may hold?
I find myself trying desperately to fix life’s problems from what I said I would the year before and pick at what I need to fix for next. I have always seen the New Year as a clean slate. Where the problems from last year seem to miraculously stop and I then have the ability to fix those problems or ignore them from then on. I am surprised when I realize they are still there, growing and festering deep into December. How do I cope with the Ghosts of Christmas past, and all its demons it carries, embrace the Ghosts of Christmas present, and not care about the Ghosts of Christmas yet to come?
December 17th, 2009 at 6:25 pm
It’s interesting because I have always had a sense of melancholy this time of year. Not being as beautifully eloquent as you are, I chalk it up to “the funks”. I get sad mostly because its a reminder of how fast time goes. I turned around and year is freaking gone! How did that happen?