Winter is far from bleak in my personal little world. I’m feeling pretty perky physically and mentally, I have a couple of nifty, low-stress projects percolating, and I’ve got plenty of time to indulge in idle and guilty pleasures.
What’s more, the weather has been marvelously cold and wet, a throwback to the pre-climate-disaster olden days. Yes, I realize cold, wet weather isn’t generally considered marvelous, but being a lucky gal with central heating, toasty bedding, hot food, warm clothes, and waterproof footwear, I can revel in “bad” weather and delight in what it brings — bright skies, clean air, and a glorious mix of autumn-colored trees and new-green hills.
In my blinders-on daily life, I’ve been attending to the usual seasonal affairs. Had a lovely potluck Hanukkah feast with family last weekend, gave a nod to holiday decorations,
and when it comes to Yule trees, I’ve got two whoppers. Or is that three?
I shopped, wrapped, sent a few cards … and now it’s Midwinter’s Eve.
I’m all set. I’ll get a fire going in the wood burner. I’m serving elk medallions in a pomegranate sauce for dinner. When the new sun rises tomorrow, we’ll hunt down some mistletoe, then retire to the living room to unwrap the pile of gifts we’ve received.
But every time I lift my gaze from the happy tasks at hand, I see war and devastation, homelessness, loss, grief, starvation, disease, cruelty, hatred. I see a world swinging swiftly and horrifically toward authoritarian madness and away from sense, sanity, and compassion. Beyond my little bubble of privilege, Midwinter looks bleak, indeed.
Though I used it as the title of this post, the poem In the Bleak Midwinter (Christina Georgina Rosetti, 1830-1894) is way too Jesus-y to suit me. Besides, the birth of the new sun is about hope, yes? So here’s another Rosetti poem, one that lifts and lightens my heart.
May it do the same for you.
A Wintry Sonnet A Robin said: The Spring will never come, And I shall never care to build again. A Rosebush said: These frosts are wearisome, My sap will never stir for sun or rain. The half Moon said: These nights are fogged and slow, I neither care to wax nor care to wane. The Ocean said: I thirst from long ago, Because earth's rivers cannot fill the main. — When Springtime came, red Robin built a nest, And trilled a lover's song in sheer delight. Grey hoarfrost vanished, and the Rose with might Clothed her in leaves and buds of crimson core. The dim Moon brightened. Ocean sunned his crest, Dimpled his blue, yet thirsted evermore.
That second poem is gorgeous. I still like the first one, not taking much notice of the Jesus component, but I associate it primarily with Holst’s gorgeous setting of it, simple yet effective.
Hi, so nice to hear from you!
Agreed on the Holst. As a vocalist, I was never bothered by the (Christian) religious nature of so much of the music I sang. A great work is a great work, and whether the Muses or the Almighty inspire it, it’s a sacred delight to perform it. Besides, back in the day, a huge portion of those works were commissioned by the church, so the Jesus-oriented nature of the text is a given. Flying solo without musical arrangement, though, the words of “Bleak Midwinter” would’ve become the all and everything of the post … hence my fleeting discomfort.
Glad you like them both :)
Greetings from across the pond. Brighter days ahead, literally. Let’s hope the humans take note… x
Beannachtaí na Féile Nua na Gréine, Dec :)
I seriously doubt humans will take note … but even so, I’m foolishly hoping an epiphany of conscience and morality suddenly strikes our species’ collective soul. ‘Tis the season of miracles, nach eh?
A beautiful and poignant sharing, dear cousin. I feel much the same, without the elk medallions with pomegranate! ❤️
Abrazos.
Thank you, darlin’. Guess we’ll both weather the season torn between feeling blessed/lucky and anxious/heartbroken. Hearing from you has def tipped the scales in the blessed/lucky direction. Besos <3