December 29, 2016 (Thursday)

by Yule Heibel on December 28, 2017

The calendar year is drawing to a close. It doesn’t really mean much, but in terms of seasons, it’s possible to feel a change, a move to dormancy, if you will. I could be projecting, of course…

I’m definitely feeling slowed down, and a bit sad about what is or might be dying off. Some friends commented with birthday wishes on my Facebook, one with the kind of openness and authority I’d expect from her – very straightforward words, clear as skycult air. Then another, not so much. A bit – probably a calculated bit – late with the wishes, but then not just from her, and instead mingled into a “crowd” of others who surely also wish the best, as though one is only safe-ish if there’s back-up. Also included some remarks, an expression of “hope” that maybe I’ll emerge and be sociable in the New Year, and then a complete non sequitur into some personal details I really didn’t need to know about (nor did anyone else on my Facebook for that matter). It strikes me lately that it’s typical for some people to add “noise” to any- and everything, because heaven forbid there should be clarity. And I think everyone knows someone exactly like that.

So, in a way I’m reminded of the dormancy of my relationship(s) with people who have been friends, …and dormancy, unlike death, also implies eventual reawakening. Sometimes, though, waking up to this is tiresome, and it feels preferable to keep on sleeping. But then again, that’s a waste of life. We’re alive now. Dormancy is yet another fiendish thing of nature we embodied beings need to get through, if only so that we can wake up again.

Here at home we’re all dealing to varying degrees with some kind of cold virus. At the same time now, going forward, the deep-freeze temperatures of winter will really be starting in earnest. So there’s a palpable sense of vulnerability, of being pervious to damage, too. When nature goes dormant, it’s not necessarily impervious to harm. The coming cold can kill things off, danger is real. If you think about it, even sleep is dangerous…

Driving in to Boston later today to catch the final third of Beyond Words, this time at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum.

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