Help! I can't catch my breath and I can't see. I think I’m trapped inside the Hope diamond because it is blindingly brilliant and breathtakingly exhilarating and…and stunningly inspiring, and – um… Belay that. It's just Minnesota where light is refined to its purest magnitude and dazzling snowscapes send color flashing through crystal prisms, conjugating rainbows everywhere you look! Snow dervishes are whirling across the lake, and every tracery of tree-branch lace is limned with a confectioner’s cloyingly sweet frosting. And just today the temp is soaring into the 30s. I'm not saying it's warm here, but I bought a dozen eggs this morning and two of them hatched out before I got home in the car.
If you are a troglodyte living underground, "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" It's not as cold as you think…(it’s colder). Kidding, kidding! Did you enjoy winter as a kid? Yes? Thermometers weren't shorter then, were they? Hmmm. It must've been the snow you ate. Eat some! (White only, please.) You have to actually DO something if you want your body to steam and glow instead of shriveling into a ball like a hedgehog, you know. Adults sitting on snowmobiles clenching and unclenching their butts on the turns does not count as exercise. Ditto hanging onto sleds while gravity does the work out. Exercise is defying gravity – jumping, rolling in the snow, making snow angels, hiking, snowshoeing, skinny skiing – or anything where you supply the power. Shovel someone's walk. Ring a Salvation Army bell. Sing something that connects you to the innocence and expectations of your youth when your blood ran fast and you didn't mind the cold – even singing a Christmas Carol will do. Hint: there are no Christmas carols that begin, “All the girls in France…” or “Batman smells…” “Silent Night” works for me. Innocence. Ideals as airbrushed as a snow globe. That was you once. Snow is the great amnesty. It erases scars and wounds (and years). Above all, it gives you a new blank slate to write on with your footprints, ski tracks and the purest of long-delayed but never-forgotten dreams…
Over the last five years I've received many requests for a Christmas column I wrote on StorytellersUnplugged called EMPTY BOXES I HAVE WORN. The original post with all its comments is on my author's website under Sullygrams & Columns (January, 2007). It's a story about the fact that angels don't wear halos and are not summoned by wishful pleas. Demand one and you will very likely get something wingless that will keep you grounded in the nest until you finally realize you missed the flight. The mistake is natural. If you look for an Angel out of frustration, you will probably very quickly designate one out of desperation. Sort of like a hatchling imprinting the first thing they see as their Mother. We spend half our lives thinking it's all about getting, until we discover that getting is all about giving to the objects of our heart. Angels are not sent to give to us but to receive from us, for they are opportunities for us to transcend our weakest selves, to pass the test, so to speak, and utilize our highest potential. Most often we don't see them for what they are until they are in the rearview mirror. But sometimes, if we aren't too comfortable, we catch a glimpse in time. I've adapted the original true story again in this month's column ANGELS IN THE REARVIEW MIRROR [ http://storytellersunplugged.com/blog/2011/12/15/thomas-sullivan-angels-in-the-rearview-mirror/ ].
Photos below are as follows: the first two capture Elm Creek snow guns laying down the magic. Next are five nature shots from recent hikes in Crow-Hassan’s main park. And the picture after that is a response to mail I continue to get from October's column on SU where I wrote about an Avatar/Pandora moment in a sacred spot at Elm Creek on a March 27th years ago. “Take a picture of the sacred spot,” times a dozen requests. OK. But it’s a place, and you can’t see the magic of an event in just its place. Trust me, the invisible magic is still there, as loud as beating hearts in sync and as fluid as memories. Following that photo is this month’s Blast from the Past. Some of you will recognize “Tres amigos” sitting in the bleachers at Brrrr-ennan Pools. L to R: skinny me, “Moose” Moosekian, and Bruce Norvell -- who you may remember from newsletters/columns at the end of last winter when we skied the mountains of Idaho around Bruce’s small ranch. The penultimate photo shows Dearreader.com guru Suzanne Beecher’s gift that arrived in the middle of my birthday party with instructions to be worn while playing the sax! And last but not least, nefarious Doc Foto (exquisite folksinger Mark Manrique) has thrown me to the lions again just as the political run-up reaches critical mass.
Merry, Merry to you, and yes, my offer is still good for a CHEAP ($3.99) stocking stuffer or unique gift! I will send an author greeting on Christmas morn to anyone receiving an e-book download of my Best Novel World Fantasy Con finalist THE MARTYRING for a gift. The downloads can be read on any device (Kindle, Nook, etc., even a computer). Just send me the name and an e-mail address for the recipient after you download at one of these sites: http://www.amazon.com/The-Martyring-ebook/dp/B0069CIFL4/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1321818520&sr=1-1 ; http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-martyring-thomas-sullivan/1002498220?ean=2940013458987 or any other sellers.
There are no words good enough to tell you how grateful I am for your friendship. Know that there will be a crystal moment on both Christmas and New Year’s Eves when I will stand alone atop a snowy knoll on skis and thank the Wizard Divine for our sharing of this world. Wherever you are, be well, and may all your celebrations leave you warm and fulfilled…!
Thomas “Sully” Sullivan
www.thomassullivanauthor.com
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