‘Tis the Season

Time.  The way it repeats, cyclically, the way we adapt to the solar and lunar cycles, so that the traditions seem appropriately and not arbitrarily placed.  The witnessing of the aging process, and the wondering at infant resiliency, and the impacts of the present on what is to be.  The little aspects of human nature, the unwillingness to say just what we mean or want, the focus on fleeting appearances because...  because if you don’t care about something, is there a fear it is to easy to fall into the trap of caring for nothing?  The communication breakdowns in not thinking of the other, the lack of sleep contributing, compounding situations.  The recurring trips back to the same stores, feeding the same consumerist cycle.  The calling out of the same name, due to helplessness, for the sake of being heard.  The sugar-rush reward-based approaches and mentality everywhere.  Ever the same.

The randomness of travel as a break and escape.  Choosing what you want, your own life.  And yet, that selfishness has its own perils.  And so triggers the pondering.  Until the point comes and there can be no putting it off any longer... and you do what you must, what seems ordained.  Drive safely to Halifax in 3 hours, old man.  The Old Triangle Tibs Eve reveal was good.  The failure of Chaz R to make his pop in, as unwelcome as it would have been.  The brushing off of Maurice.  Some things do change.  We get older mostly, but that’s not all.  We can learn.  And it is not always too late.  Sometimes you can hit the timing just right.

Merry Christmas.