Wednesday, December 8, 2021

My very own board game of days

Eyes closed.  Tucked in under these white snow blankets.  These stripped trees.  Sound asleep.  Just like so many of these wild animals.  Hibernating.  These beings of light.  Their deep rooted innate sense of knowing.  Understanding that this dark season is rest season.  Recovering.  Renewing.  Taking the time to pay the bill for what the prosperous months have served.  This circle of life.  For as long as I can remember, I have always pictured calendar dates as a road map of sorts in my mind.  Kind of like the square boxes that player pieces move through when playing a board game.  Each day its own box.  With its own feel and challenges.   All strung together in succession.  The last box of the year adjacent to the first box of the year.  This illusory track that I have been looping around annually.  Its path not quite circular.  But not exactly square either.  Subtle turns on pivotal boxes.  Like on the first day of school in September.  And straightaways during the uneventful times of the year.  Like the main summer months.  July and August.  Easy.  Just cruise through the unbending open lane of boxes and enjoy the ride.  December is in the top left hand corner of my year circuit.  On a slight upward slant.  And the shade of the boxes is noticeably darker.  Leveling off and brightening up around Christmas.  My very own board game of days.  Painted long ago with the honest creativity of my inner child.   Unchanged my whole life.  Forever clearly plotted inside my head.  A pale spotlight highlighting the current day box.  The now.  A few weeks before the shortest day of the year.  The darkest box.  A time when all that I have suppressed during the brighter boxes is coming back up to the surface.  In my face.  Begging for my attention.  Eyes closed.  This rest season.  Recovering.  Renewing.  Purposefully waiting for my player piece to move onto brighter boxes.


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