Dylan Thomas and the sanctification of details
“A Child's Christmas in Wales” wandered into my bookstore one day. I had heard of this poem by Dylan Thomas and, even though poetry challenged, I sat down and read it.
Wonderful.
I bumped into it again, somehow, on the computer — you know how these things happen — and I thought it might be fun to read as a family at Christmas. We did, on Boxing Day, the six of us staring at our devices — iPads, iPhones, MacBook Air, each reading a verse in succession around the circle. The 10-year-old kept up marvelously. Yes, it was a little long for him, but he wound his way through the run-on sentences and, during other people's turns, ate homemade blackberry sorbet, keeping one eye on the screen.
At the end we tossed around memorable phrases. The elegance of details, I thought, remembering the phrase from some E.B. White essay. The living room had presents stacked in piles, bits of wrapping paper and ribbons floated through the dog hair, ornaments dangled from the tree — some going back further than my childhood; fudge and eggnog and roast beef — Christmas is such a welter of details. And in the midst of them, Emanuel, “I am with you.” All is made Holy. Astonishing.
November
You are undoubtedly irate that this bit of Christmas lore is arriving in November. Isn't it bad enough that stores are already sprouting red and green? It's not even Advent yet. Thanksgiving is still around the corner. What is with these people? I have a friend that rails along these lines yearly. Hopefully she will read-on before she calls me.
I happened into the above little story when I was cruising around my CompanyofSaints.com website, reading my favorite author. Suddenly I wondered if you or someone else might have little (very short) holiday story to share. Wouldn't it be fun to have a few different memories in December's column? Your story could be about something that became a family tradition, or a one-off like the above.
If something comes to mind, email me. You could send me the story (Warning: I may have to squish it.) or you could just give me your contact info and we'll talk. I'm thinking holiday — any holy day. Even a Thanksgiving story would be great.
Too depressing
Yes, I know that all this falderal can be depressing. Ho Ho Hum, or even Ho Ho Humph. Blue Christmas Services are often available in December for those who are not feeling jolly. I know about one on Dec. 20, which will be at St. John's in Aptos at 7 p.m. There will undoubtedly be others; keep your eyes and ears open.
Meanwhile, I just read a very interesting book on depression by Johann Hari. “Lost Connections; uncovering the real causes of depression and the unexpected solutions.” The author started taking anti-depressants as a teenager, which seemed to work a little, for a while, and then didn't. Eventually, after upping his dosage year after year, he discovered that instead of fiddling endlessly with his theoretical brain chemistry, he might take a look at his life.
Working with data driven, study rich information, Lost Connections itemizes nine kinds of connections that people need, and six ways encourage them. Even if you're not battling depression, there's enough tragedy, nastiness, appalling events, riots in the streets, disgust spewing from every corner, not to even mention war, to unsettle our attempts to maintain some semblance of sanity.
Moving forward
Consider the areas of disconnection Hari mapped out: Disconnection from meaningful work, other people, meaningful values, childhood trauma, status and respect, the natural world, a hopeful or secure future . . . and yes, he also looked at genetics and brain adaptations to past situations.
Reading the section on disconnection from other people, I appreciated Hari's contention that “A one way relationship can't cure loneliness.” To end loneliness, he wrote, you need a sense of mutual aid and protection with at least one other person.
When the book shifted to looking at some astonishing communities that had risen up to help people's need, Hari noted that in the past he had “privatized his pain.” Spending time face to face makes a huge difference . . . and no, social media doesn't count.
Although Lost Connections could be called a self-help book, the author is clear that expecting people to pull themselves up by their bootstraps when overcome by anxiety and depression, is comparable to telling someone to “get over it” when they are grieving. People already connected in families and faith communities should read this book. Many are in desperate need of what you have at least some of. How can they be invited in?
In the Spirit runs monthly. Contact Alliee DeArmond via email at adbooks@aol.com.