Holiday Celebration = Social Investment

It pays to take a breath and notice the resources we have in one another.

I recently wrote a celebration of shallow ties that unite the community and enrich us all but we can’t overlook the deeper ones either. From a social perspective, the holidays are about recognizing and reinforcing our connections on all levels.

From a nod on the street, to an office party, gift baskets for customers, Christmas cards for old neighbors we no longer see, brunches with friends and visits (even under duress) to or from families out-of-state, the season is a gauntlet of social obligations.

The other day, my wife and I shared our annual holiday freakout from being overwhelmed by it all. I asked her to take a deep breath and I needed one myself. So I walked to the studio through the neighborhood.

Open Love Letter for the Neighborhood School

The 4th Grade Photo Club documented the school and its neighborhood. The School has been the core of Sebastian's realm and he has thrived in that arrangement. (Photo: Sebastian Krebs)

“I am both happy and sad,” said Sebastian at bedtime, four days before the end of fourth grade and of his tenure at Clark Elementary School. I told him that sounded about right. The neighborhood school is a sweet little nest that he is now ready to leave—as he should be.

Meantime, it’s been a victory lap of celebrations of what the kids have accomplished together—field day, talent show, concert, dance performance, art exhibition, basketball game versus the teachers, awards, trip to DC and a step-up ceremony. It’s a cheerful gauntlet worthy of a Superbowl champ but there will be tears because these youngsters are coming to understand that life only flows in one direction.

We bought the house specifically because it sits across the street from the beautiful historic school and its community playground. We enrolled him in kindergarten at the first opportunity and every morning since Sebastian has sprinted out the door so he could be waiting when the doors open. We actually have to restrain him at times so he won’t be a nuisance. Fortunately the librarian caught on and managed to harness his enthusiasm for some help shelving books or catching up at the circulation desk; it just encouraged him to try to go even earlier.

The school and its grounds are the center of his life; after spending all day there he dashes home, drops his enormous backpack (full of important primary school things), hits the bathroom and goes roaring back to the playground. We have a New Years Eve party horn that we blow real loud when it’s time for dinner. He runs back like a mystical wild horse, then back afterward until darkness hides the basketball rim. He has a defined realm.

Wonderful as it has been, Clark is not a fake fantasy world. Sebastian has certainly heard more stories of struggle and woe than I had at his age. There were some tragedies that were completely random and others of the harder reality that you can see coming a mile away. Healing is a shared endeavor and the there are enduring signs of it in the gardens, on the walls and all around.

And yet. It’s a joyful, loving community full of singers, fabulous dancers, little brothers and sisters plus a few amateur rhetoricians: a place where the kindergarten teacher (star among stars) would make an excellent President. The staff is enthusiastic and well motivated, always very focused on the kids. They give and give and treat each student according to their needs.

It definitely feels like a family and the best knowledge Sebastian will take away is that ours is a world where everyone is different but with love and patience and listening we can all learn and grow together. He has succeeded academically too. Although testing has its drawbacks it’s a truly gratifying to have data that affirms that all is as good as it seems—sometimes even better.

Belmont is so great in large part because it has this huge energetically beating heart contained in a jewel box right in its geographic core. I’ve worked hard to know the community and this blog flailingly attempts to sketch it out but that school is where the most actual community engagement is happening.

I could spend hours (more than I have) talking about the amazing teachers, field trips, gifted program, afterschool clubs or the surprising fellowship around the breakfast table (we allow him an occasional “second breakfast” at school). The impression that I think will always last is of three kids walking down Monticello Road one evening with their mother. They were siblings ranging from Sebastian’s size to a toddler and all piped in unison “Hey Sebastian!” Smiles followed with an understanding of what a neighborhood school is all about.

Sebastian has learned to be a part of the human family: loving, decent, striving for something better together. And we have been blessed to walk along with him.

The Temple of my Mother

My mom would want me to take my camera along on my voyage of remembrance and I'm glad I did! I was channeling something that day and I can't wait to share more of the results.

When the news of my mother’s passing went out, we received many encouraging words and offers of support. It feels really good to know that I am the opposite of alone: I have many friends who would gladly do anything I ask, no matter the reason.

There was one invitation I especially could not resist: James’ cabin in the Goshen Pass, the seat of many joyful memories, a place of terrific beauty, and not least a place where I could spend some quiet time with a very dear friend, talking over weighty (and weightless) matters.

With my family’s blessing I threw my sleeping bag and a cooler in the car and raced over the Blue Ridge with an elated spirit. Knowing I would arrive about an hour before James, I resolved to go for a run and I knew just where I wanted go: a trail called Laurel Run that follows a lovely side canyon along a mossy and steep-falling brook into the heart of the mountains. I just wanted to stretch my legs but I got more than I expected.

After climbing a few miles, the trail petered out into a secluded glen high in a sheltered amphitheater on the mountain’s shoulder. The ground was mossy damp and open, with mighty oaks soaring up to support a green canopy high above. There were no human sounds and a quiet that is not typical in Virginia—just a few crickets, distant birdsong, and the sound of acorns falling.

I had strode unexpectedly into a cathedral, of the kind my mother had often spoken longingly and there could be no better place to remember her. I walked through the trees feeling completely invigorated and in touch with all lives, both current and disappeared or even forgotten. I thought about her presence in this place, within me and everywhere.

At a moment when I was receiving encouraging notes and gifts, this was the mightiest of them all. I am grateful for whatever force called me to that particular place. Whether it was a benevolent voice from my mother or from within me or simple chance that took me there, it was exactly what I needed.

After some remembrance and contemplation, I flew down the mountain and back to the cabin, ready to celebrate. I picked up some of that bumper crop of acorns. I will plant one in my yard to remember my mother, who taught me how to walk with the trees.

Postscript

I stored the acorns in a little plastic cup on my side porch. Meredith reports that some squirrels raided the place and spirited the acorns away. It looks like the job of planting them is now out of my hands. One can only hope that the squirrels buried the nuts in spots with plenty of light and that they forget a few of them, as they often do. It's an absurdity that my mom would appreciate. Meantime, I'll be on the lookout for tiny seedlings with alternate-lobed leaves.

A Clank and a Howl of Laughter

A "Clank!" followed by a howl of laughter can only herald one thing.

I was working in my garden when I heard a sure harbinger of Spring: my neighbor Chloe's musical laughter ringing through the warm, moist Virginia air.

I went up the short hill to say hello and found her enjoying a game of bocce and a glass of Vinho verdi with her friend Kate. I told them about my project and asked if I could photograph them and they said "Of course."

Afterward, they offered me a glass of wine and a round of boules and I said, "Yes and yes." I summoned my best inner-old-frenchman and enjoyed a perfect and very spontaneous aperitif.

This is why my neighborhood--and Monticello Road--is so great.

Primavera

Crocus were just the first salvo in Primavera's surprise conquest of my backyard--and my heart!

I confess to a raging crush on Springtime. When Zephyrus blows the pollen around and the three Graces start dancing in my yard, I just want to run out and join their frolicking.

Bulbs are coming up all over the place, some that I planted, some cached and forgotten by squirrels, and many busting out from under the leaves with purely voluntary enthusiasm. I want to roll around among the crocus and the daffodils and lose myself Emily-Dickenson-style in the living hummus and the perfume and the warm sun.

This is the reason I moved to Virginia. I can throw open my window on a March morning and smell Life bursting from the ground. I can see the Earth sending its woody tendrils toward the sky. I can wear the same thing outside and in. Just a few degrees warmer than New York brings this rapture a full month sooner. I definitely wouldn’t roll on the ground there.

Sadly, as I write this, that’s exactly where I’m headed: northbound on the Regional and I’m watching the gorgeous Piedmont roll by—and away. I won’t be able to welcome the Equinox as I had hoped on the porch of a cabin in the woods by a lake. Equinox means something different in the City and my rites will have to wait.

First a short exile and I will be very glad to see my friends. Sprintime has undeniable charms there but throughout the sojourn I will be thinking about the trees in bud and the many green shoots in my garden. Soon I’ll be back and Primavera will be there and although she won’t wait for me, she will welcome me back to her embrace without reservation.

She’s good that way.

Everything is all saturated

With the clock ticking I have a "bucket" of things to do and see before leaving.
On this day, it was Leandro Erlich's cool Swimming Pool at PS1, followed by a Solstice Celebration at Socrates.
Bucket metaphor courtesy of J-Dalt.

These last days before setting sail feel super-saturated. Each experience—a ride over the Williamsburg Bridge, a swim in the Met Pool, a drink with a friend, a trip to the health food store—feels like it could be the last of its kind. In some cases, it’s the literal truth. It is a blessing because it forces me to really pay attention, to take every interaction seriously. There’s no time for messing around.

The impending move is like a Sword of Damocles and it’s quite good really, forcing me to do—and say—the things I should have a long time ago. I too often chose to bide my time, luxuriating in the knowledge that whatever it was could always wait. Perhaps a riper moment would come along later. While each thing has its season, that can be a dangerous posture, an excuse that can be extended over and over until offerings are taken off the table, or we’re no longer in a position to accept them.

So it’s better to do things right away and not wait unless there is a very good reason.

Besides, an urgent life is richer, as I am now seeing so clearly. Small things take on a special value—an importance that is always there but too easily overlooked or taken for granted. Even my dreams have been really beautiful, rich and memorable. They make sleep an even greater pleasure than normal. Yet, when morning comes, I don’t want to miss a thing so I wake up super-alert and ready for another day and the sword that much closer. That’s how I live all the time, but the sword certainly clarifies things.

Maybe it’s not for everyone and I couldn’t always live like this but for now I like it. I am very excited about where I am going, but it also makes me happy that the place I am in makes me want to stay for one last song, one last dance, one last sunset…

April is one of the most amazing parts of the Natural Calendar and I’ve missed it the past few years by being trapped in the City. Here at Springtree it’s been soggy, misty, and lovely—like living inside a Nick Drake song. Everywhere things are sprouting from the ground or blooming from the trees. There is a very healthy tulip poplar along the walkway from one house to the other and it’s just exploding with vitality. I can easily see the progression from hour to hour as its leaves slowly, but visibly, unfurl. The orchards and forests and woods and roadside pastures are just riots of color.

Such a blessing to be here for Easter and to mark Spring’s arrival. Spring is the least assertive/aggressive of the seasons. She doesn’t seem to mind all that much if you don’t notice her presence—or her passage. Sebastian and I have been fortunate to be able to explore some of the wonderful things about spring that are so easily missed: violets in the grass, babies in nests, trees adorned in blossoms, the garden starting to show the first sprouts that will be the summer’s cornucopia.

When I was a child my mother would take me on walks through the woods and tell me about maypole dances and other pagan celebrations that we’ve somehow managed to lose. But Springtime endures, even if we don’t know how to celebrate it properly. She does her thing every year, quite in the open, and we are always invited to join in the bliss. Even if we as a people don’t take much time to savor it, I will make sure that I breathe deeply. And my child will know it as well.

Season's Greetings

What better way to greet Spring on its first day than to get the he11 out of town?

That's what I did: after dropping Sebastian off at school I high-tailed it up to Rockefeller State Park Preserve for a beautiful long run through the woods and fields. I basically had the place to myself--my only company was birds, livestock, and a group of gardeners busily readying the place for the new season.

It was simply gorgeous, with a soft and filtered light, cool fresh air and birdsong everywhere. The snow flurry just made the whole thing somehow sweeter, as the 40+degree temps laughingly told winter to stop teasing.

It's Springtime now.

How'd we do in 08?

Update to the previous post:
Splinter came through for me at the last minute, providing this lovely little cauldron in which to burn my inhibitions, clearing the path for successful resolutions for 09. I just hope the fact that I breathed a whiff of the smoke doesn't set me back too much!

Since we're being public about our New Year's resolutions (well, most of them), let's take a look at how we did in 08. They seemed a bit ambitious but now I see that I did astonishingly well.

Here we go:

Get a Manhattan gallery that will represent my interests on a national/international level.
Well not yet but I'm still working on it. In fact it's back on the list for 09.

Do more group shows.
Yup. and with very good results: sales, awards, new connections, and interesting experiences. Though not on the list, that's a big goal for 09 as well.

Cure Beevis and Creepers of their respective illnesses/neurosis. Or at least stabilize them.
Well this one was truly astonishing. Creepers went right to death's door and we dragged him back through sheer force of will. Now both cats are healthier than any time since we've had them.

Rock Boston
I feel like it rocked me. Other people told me I did OK though. I plan to do better this year.

Eat a super-healthy diet, including greens every day
That's made a big difference, especially the part about eating greens. Back on the list for 09, along with good sleep.

Resolve my financial woes
Somehow things have gotten much better. I think Cole stepped up big time.

Seize opportunity when it lands in my lap.
I can think of a few opportunities I've missed. This is an ongoing thing...

Find some kind of emotional equilibrium (yeah right!)
I think I've gotten better in this regard. Especially in not trying to fix (or mess up) things that are already working in my life. That's always been a weakness for me.

Always ask people’s names when talking on the telephone
Yup.

Celebrate, rather than resent, my friends’ and neighbors’ riches.
This one was so big and complex it got its own entry. I think I have gotten better in this regard and a big part of that is to recognize one's own advantages and riches (of which I have many). That's an ongoing pursuit however and a major key to living a happy life.

Happy Holidays

City Mouse and Country Mouse join to wish you a joyous holiday season full of music and bird song, stimulation and contemplation, peace and nergy, and the sublime Joy of Living.

Benski+Emski

These two know how to have fun. Congrats Benjameister and Emski. We couldn't be happier for you.

Ben and Emily’s wedding was the full deal. Really four days of celebration. Huge tent like a circus or country auction set up behind the garden. Friends encamped on ridge opposite. Outrageously good barbeque. Plenty of excellent local creftbrew. Old friends from really far away. New friends. Missing relations and missed. New members of the family and they feel really close.

Torrential rains with cheery-sized hail that somehow replaced itself with perfect blue skies just at the right moment. Sunlight as if designed by an experienced theatre hand. May’s full bloom. No bugs(!) Four piece bluegrass band on a haywagon complete with hay.

Kids free to roam and do as they please with minimal supervision and tons of fun. Plenty of company for them and for us too. Wonderful people constantly figuring out how to help and just doing so with being asked or told. Two cozy fires, one with free neck massages.

An Aussie, an Alaskan dogsledrunner, lake-country Minnesotans, people from the hills of Carolina. New Yorkers, a photojournalist from DC. She had to leave early to shoot another wedding—the president’s daughter. Vollyball on the east lawn. Croquet to the north. Ping pong on the south slope. I watched them play from the outdoor shower. Of course a good friend just happened to be working on the catering staff. This is Charlottesville and all people of taste were mobilized.

Grass so green and air so sweet. Tiki torches. Fond stories of the one who could not make it. Wish she were here but our thoughts about her are celebrations. Washing dishes in buckets on the porch. Mark your cup with a sharpie or a white ribbon. You’ll want to hang onto it.

It was a wonderful, affirming experience. This pair was destined to marry but they worked hard to get to the altar. Not always an easy road for them but the right one.

Infinity's Crossing Point

The signs of Spring are everywhere!

The other night I attended a celebration in the East Village to welcome the Vernal Equinox and the amazing full moon that arrived on the same evening. That was not the first pagan ritual I have joined over there—I love the spirituality that is resident in that neighborhood. It feels plugged in to something really, really old. Lots to think about: seasonal renewal, new beginnings, and the interweaving of opposing forces, the male and female, the Hieros-gamos.

Of course the trip home was a nightmare due to construction on the L train. Took me over an hour, which is considerably longer than it would have taken had I walked home. About two miles as the crow flies. It was one of those things that make me hate the city. Those periodic (and frequent) indignities are a key part of the Williamsburg experience. Yet we cannot relocate within the city, leaving a stark choice between regular humiliation or departure.

The historical trend in the neighborhood (going back at least a hundred years) is for the ambitious to leave and for the broken to default to systematic degradation. I don’t feel like I can take that $h!t much longer. Couple that with the predictable longing one feels for green and growing things following a springtime rite and it is easy to ask oneself, "Why exactly am I doing this?"

I had lifted weights that day and it tends to make me ornery, so that explains the mood a little bit. The next day I took a train to Sleepy Hollow and went for a three hour run through the woods and fields and that certainly mellowed me out. Still, I feel like there is a clock ticking within me and the point is approaching when the alarm will ring and I will say, "I’ve had it."

In the bleak Mid-Winter

I love this time of year--the solstice season. It always gets a little bit warmer for a few days, the fields are cut, the birds easy to spot, and the light makes everything look like a fairy tale. The days are getting longer and the holidays create a tone of wonderment and awe.

If I were not in the city, I would go for a long walk through fields and forests, meadows and bogs and reflect on all that surrounds me. Since I'm stuck in the City, I went for a lovely run across the Williamsburg Bridge and meandering through East River Park. Let's be real--even though the gardens are nice it's not a natural environment. In fact, my reverie was disturbed by an attacking pit bull and its urban-cretin owner blamed me for it yelling, "why are you running around, anyway?" Well, countrymouse is well accustomed to negotiating aggressive dogs (almost every run in rural VA features at least one encounter). My tactic, which has always worked, is to ignore them completely (with the occasional gratuitous kick to the head) knowing they can't keep up for very long and are not fast, smart, or well-trained enough to know how to land a truly grievous bite.

The dog didn't disturb my reverie at all. Very Zen-like, actually, though the owner was less than courteous. I quickly distanced myself and had a wonderful run. The perfect weather (crystal clear and 45 deg.), combined with the Christmas-induced claustrophobia, and the sugar and caffeine rush from Cole's yummy cinnamon rolls and coffee created a perfect situation for a nice run, deep breathing, and as much peace and reflection as one can ever hope to find in an urban park.