Gathering Momentums and Reflections

 

‘Now, whether it were by peculiar grace,/A leading from above, a something given…’ ~  William Wordsworth, Resolution and Independence (1807)

 

There is a gathering momentum in looking towards to the arrival of the New Year in our village. In the New Year’s Eve, or Hogmanay, as we call it here in Scotland, meaning the last day of the old year, there is a cherished tradition in this village. It is our custom to ask the oldest resident in the village to ring the church’s bell when the clock strikes exactly midnight to greet the New Year.  

Everyone gathers round the bell ringer, greeting each other, shaking hands, and calling out ‘Happy New Year’ before singing “Auld Lang Syne”.

 

I said to Gordon that perhaps, one day if I live long enough, by the grace of God, to be the oldest resident in this village, I hope that the residents would ask me to be the bell ringer in Hogmanay. 

Gordon replied with an entire impartiality that he is quite sure that everyone will come and ask me for “I am sure you will be a fine gay old man in the village by then!”    

 

Snow can also smooth out any form of contortions and wrinkles in one’s soul. I would like to think that it is what they call 'nature cure'. Who would pass such freshness and purity by? Its purity is like a fresh canvas that summons us to start anew.   

Winter is a season for a homebody like me. All I want to do is to rest, keep myself warm with quilts in front of the fire and read a book. We had a snowfall a couple of weeks before Christmas. One was transported to a winter-white fantasy world. 

The snow can hush all the noise in the whole world with its blast of fresh air. It can also smooth out any form of contortions and wrinkles in one’s soul. I would like to think that it is what they call 'nature cure'. Who would pass such freshness and purity by? Its purity is like a fresh canvas that summons us to start anew.   

 

I think that out of all the months in this year, December is the month that I feel most blessed. It is a joy to crawl out of one’s bed in the morning to witness beautiful kind things that each day bestows on me here. 

Despite the drabness of the world outside, the colours are not dimmed. Oh, the splendour of it is quite breathtaking. 

One is no longer reminded by the sad drizzling rain on the city’s pavements. One starts to feel wholesome again since the absence from the city only multiplies one’s daily renewal of affection and gratitude for the country. One feels one is whisked away to a distant, kinder and gentler place, a kind of arcadia. 

This village, surrounded by the vast ocean, is my safe harbour, my anchorage and my sanctuary. 

The literary critic, John Carey once wrote: “Paradises…tend to be on islands. This may be because they suggest seclusion and purity. But it has also been pointed out that the human foetus is an island. So the island-paradise may reflect man’s longing for the protective fluid that once surrounded him.” 

I think that the citizens of Ireland are very lucky to have their passport, printed with the words from Yeats' beautiful poem, The Lake Isle of Innisfree. It opens with the famous line: "I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree". Such beauty and such consoling words! Of course, I am very envious. 

The sunrise in this frost-bound village looks majestic like a thousand lit candles. The full moon without her grey veil looks serene like a bride, turning her head to her groom at the wedding, surrounded by the pale stars as her bridesmaids. I go out into the woods to bid her farewell for I may not see her again tomorrow.

 

A combination of this supreme beauty and incredible kindness that I have experienced in this month, I do feel as if I have momentarily fallen into heaven. 

‘Now, whether it were by peculiar grace,/A leading from above, a something given…’ ~  William Wordsworth, Resolution and Independence (1807) 

William Wordsworth’s words came back to me as I write this journal. He called it ‘peculiar grace’, ‘a leading from above, a something given’. I call it a divine providence. If it is not a divine providence, I do not know what it is to have been engulfed in such goodness this whole month.

 

Gordon made a hearty Christmas breakfast with freshly homemade waffles, croissants and sourdough bread. 

While he was cooking in the kitchen, Gordon listened to his favourite Christmas album, Paul Anka's Songs of December (2011). It's one of the most romantic, sophisticated and strings-laden Christmas music. 

This hostess trolley (to keep the food and the plates warm) is a recent acquisition and a gift from a dear friend.  

Starter for our Christmas dinner: Smoked salmon, cream cheese and asparagus terrine and salad

Main Dish: Roast Chicken with roast potatoes, vegetables and mashed potatoes

As we draw close to the New Year offers me time to look back over the previous year and begin to look forward to the next. 

Now my task is to learn how I should keep this patch of gold in me in the coming year. I do not take it for granted. I know that I shall have to work at it to keep my old shattered self that is grey and heavy like lead at bay. 

I daresay that this patch of gold will turn into lead again as soon as I lose my efforts and return to the former wrinkled state like a failed alchemist. I now understand why Gerald Manley Hopkins asked a very poignant question in his poem, The Leaden Echo:

 

How to kéep—is there ány any, is there none such, nowhere

known some, bow or brooch or braid or brace, láce,

latch or catch or key to keep

Back beauty, keep it, beauty, beauty, beauty, … from vanishing away?

 

Pudding is based on Mary Berry's classic recipe rosace à l'orange. It's simply delicious. All three courses are prepared and cooked by Gordon at home.  

While we were raising our glasses and wishing everyone merry Christmas and health and happiness during our Christmas dinner, I was thinking of this very question. How shall I keep it from a leaden state and prevent from the kind of heaviness it brings in the coming year?

 

The path of life is never straightforward. There are always twists and turns, failures and shortcomings as well as good surprises, successes (both large and small) and joys. But I came to realisation that life is infinitely more interesting in this way: a wiggley road rather than a straight road. 

I am never fond of travelling on the A1, the longest road in the country, connecting London, the capital of England with Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland. It seems to take forever to reach one’s destination. It is too monotonous and dull. 

On the other hand, the wiggly roads of the Lake District make me enchanted and spellbound. There is poetry in their regularities and unpredictability.

 

A table set for a Christmas-morning breakfast with lots of candles, flowers, pink, gold and blue Christmas ornaments to give a regal look. Everything sparkles. Our tradition on Christmas day starts with a hearty breakfast before opening the gifts and then, we usually have our dinner in the evening (no lunch) at about 6 o' clock.

I love taking pictures in the afterglow of the sunset when everything is bathed in dazzling hues of pink, purple and violets.  

We light the candles and the fire in the dining room for our dinner 

Life is a combination of trials and errors but it is capable of turning lead into gold if we keep trying. Our persistence can be constructive whatever the outcomes. So, no matter how many times I fail, I shall just have to keep trying again. 'Carry on regardless' is my new mantra. It depends on your point of view if one calls this mantra lunacy or dedication. 

Walter Pater (1839-1894), an English essayist and art and literary critic, said something that always stays with me ever since I read his book, The Renaissance: Studies in Art and Poetry (1873) when I was a student. This following sentence appears in the conclusion chapter of his book:

 

Pater’s words are something that I shall take with me into the new year with the hope that his words will help me to a greater steadfastness. 

“To burn always with this hard gemlike flame, to maintain this ecstasy is success in life.” ~ Walter Pater, The Renaissance: Studies in Art and Poetry (1873) ~     

 

Pater’s words are something that I shall take with me into the new year with the hope that his words will help me to a greater steadfastness.

“We bless this year for all we learned,/For all we loved and lost/And for the quiet way it brought us/Nearer to our invisible destination.” From a poem, At The End Of The Year by John O’Donohue, from the collection titled “To Bless The Space Between: A Book of Blessings”.

“Beyond this moment of perfect calm/life wants nothing.” Pak Chaesam (1933-1997), Nothing. 

Taken from Enough to Say It's Far: Selected Poems of Pak Chaesam (translated by David R. McCann, Jiwon Shinan) published in 2006. 

Thank you very much for reading this blog. Wishing you a fantastic new year, of health, peace, prosperity and joy. May all your hopes and dreams come true in the new year!