November's End

Although the sun is shining high this morning, it is crisp and downright cold. At this time of year, the brightest days can also be the harshest. Mind you this is not a post about the weather, but present climatic conditions certainly do serve as a metaphor for what's going on in my mind and heart. Every year I struggle like so many others with that flip of the switch change from being humbled by gratitude to floating with joy. Gentle November urges quiet introspection. Debaucherous December tempts us to burn the candle at both ends day after day...night after long night. There are parties and cookie swaps and secret Santas and pageants and concerts and in the midst of all this good revelry, I yearn to slow down and savor the moments not just rush to and through each one to the next. I have a yen for simple family traditions and shared memories, soaking in the solitude and reflecting on what this joy season really means the other 47 odd weeks of the year.

Let's face it...sunny days can be bitter cold and seasons of joy can be times of great sorrow. It's a light and happy time of year, but that may have an astringent affect on someone who is in a place of sadness. It can literally feel like an assault. And honestly, who amongst us doesn't experience both joy and sorrow in each day? I do and I'm grateful for that. The down yos have made me ever mindful of the up yos. I have learned to respect the difficult times. By living through them, I have truly come to appreciate happiness: peace and harmony. I don't want to go all cliche here, but I am a believer that without sorrow, one cannot fully know joy. It's exactly why this season, at times reverent and others raucous, brings forth in me a flood of emotions. The call to endless joy and elation resurrects wells of deep and unending sadness. Kahlil Gibran pays perfect homage to the yin and yang that is pleasure and pain.

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say,
"Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board,
remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver,
needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

I have no doubt that December will be filled to the brim and overflowing with goodness, gaiety and wonder, but I also know that there will be times heavy with melancholy and wrought with woe. I'm making it my mission this month to give them all their due. To sit with worry...to bask in glory...to embrace ennui...to meet mirth...and to share solace. They all have earned their time and place and have much to teach and give.