“In the bleak midwinter. Frosty wind made moan. Earth stood hard as iron. Water like a stone.”
Harold Darke’s description doesn’t match the ominously sunny, warm and dry weather here in the Southwest on the first day of the New Year—but this weather is more in tune with the hope of the day:
And so I sing first in praise of our beautiful, hard-working bodies—no matter what our age; they have served us well from the moment we first put our feet on the surface of the earth and continue to serve us well in bad and good times, steadily marching us on into the mysteries;
Second I sing in praise of our glorious minds, full of the sparks of genius, even in the darkest time;
Then, the miracle of our voices, ringing out across the land in song as well as in yelps and shouts of celebration;
And last of all and most important, our proudly pumping hearts.
Those hearts fuel the daily and hourly labor of all the people who keep us going: the waiters whose names we don’t know, whose eyes we avoid; the parking lot attendants of whom we only request change; the bank tellers anonymous behind their counters; the repairers of all our broken appliances who come and go like shadows.
I’m resolved to begin asking their names, looking at their faces.
Our hearts also fuel the intrepid dancers who grace the floor at the dance studio here, Lawrence Black’s creation: Dance Station. These photos from our last Showcase show some of the spirit and finesse we have learned there—and they are the spirit of the New Year.
A slogan on a bench near a bus stop here says it all:
My wish for all my loyal readers and for the world at large in this fresh new year.