Rocks for Christmas?

Turns out, we could do worse. While coal as we traditionally know it is dark, ugly and hard, there are as many variations to this rock as there are to individial people. There are actually four types of coal that are broad and beautiful. It can be brilliant or dull; hard or soft; lumpy or smooth. And at Christmas, it can be downright mean if placed in a child's stocking.

My practical joker father once did something quite unwise. One year along with all the gifts my now-deceased brother, Steve, received, he also put lumps of coal in his Christmas stocking. It affected my brother harshly and he often mentioned it throughout his life.

Perhaps, however, as some sort of blunt childhood reversal, he became a collector of rocks, crystals and stones of all types and variations, including coal. I recall walking with him on beaches or among trees and leaves or even on the streets of New York City and he would stoop down as soon as something caught his eye. Some believe that rocks and crystals have healing and, even, spiritual properties. My brother believed this and would gift me with unusual pieces throughout the years.

After his death nearly four months ago, one of the items I selected to keep was a bowl of his rocks. I look at each one, admire it's unique beauty, and see what my brother saw - the glory of nature. Just holding one for awhile or admiring one sitting on my desk or windowsill makes me feel good.
I'm sure it was his inherit artist's eye that could see what others couldn't; their color and style, subtleties that evolved over thousands of years in each particular piece of stone.

Isn't that what we are - subtle yet brilliant pieces of nature's glory? With all our flaws, isn't there still beauty? When we make mistakes we usually create something unexpected. With cataclysmic geographical or personal events come tangible, hold-in-your-hand miracles.

And that's what personal trauma does. Through traumatic events, we find resources and support from friends we didn't know we had. We find good in what we once saw was evil. We, as members of humankind, turn ugly things into useful lessons. Just like the Earth is constantly in flux, so are we - shifting and changing with the events that shape us.

It is a somber Christmas for me this year. But I can sit and sift through my brother's rocks and remember the joy that he left me for eternity in the spirit of the season; in the spirit of love.

Tuesday

A new year. So what? It's just another day forward. Just another Tuesday.

But for many of us the specter of a new year is daunting. We worry about our health and the well-being of loved ones. We wring our hands over the Fiscal Cliff. We think about those who have left us - too soon, or in their right time to be with God. Instead of jolly, many of us become melancholy.

Our children will celebrate and ring in a new year with glee. Others both sane and insane (in my opinion) will trek down to New York City's Times Square and make the hours blur into one until the million dollar 'ball' drops. I had my years, too, when I celebrated throughout the night, dancing and drinking with friends. I doubt I'll make it to midnight this year.

Do I have any resolutions? Sure. I always do. Most of all, I resolve to just keep living and giving and moving and grooving. That trite sentence packs a wallop. Trust me.

I had reason to review my medical history recently because I update it in a Word document all the time. I have had so many surgeries and hospitalizations and take so many medications that I can't possibly fit the words into the small spaces on doctor's input forms. So I just hand them my packet and am done with it. Looking at it this time, since it dates back to 1984, I got a much-needed reality check. And I spent last night wondering if there's been enough time for my body to right itself; to rid itself of all the poisons and trauma it has experienced. Do I have time left to do the things I dream about?

Yes. I do. I must. I will. There is no other option for me. I won't allow it.

You, too, must will yourselves to carry on. If you're alive, you have choices. If it's a bad health day, let your body and mind rest. If not, get to it. This may sound harsh but I don't have time to suffer and I hope you don't either.

On Tuesday, I dismantle my Christmas tree. One goal but I may do more. And on Wednesday, I get back to hooking up colleagues who can make important justice work move forward and I will work on my book proposal. My husband's new health issues may have canceled our trip South but no matter; we adjust and carry on.

What will your Tuesday bring?