[ .via treehugger]
may be called letters sent from heaven.
Ukichiro Nakaya, 1939
I haven’t done any christmas shopping this month, this year (friends you know now).
I don’t know where december’s gone, but i’ve had plenty of yuletide reflections done. While churning out work and tying up loose ends, life continues to surprise, demand, bestow. Little actual celebrating, but i’ve felt many tiny embers of warmth in the many interactions with friends, family, even strangers. I feel this season i’ve never felt gifted so many times over. I hope i have, and will, return these blessings.
I did go on an almost-shopping trip. The bookstore is a place i still vehemently believe to have something for everyone, and so i stood as long as my legs could stand in kinokuya.
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
on children, kahlil gibran
And i paused. Your children are not just yours, they are individuals in their own right, with their own unique blend of talents to grow, their own weakness to grow through. A handy reminder to any (my) parent, i had thought.
But now i was stunned because i saw the child my own self as an expression ‘of life’s longing for itself’. A duty to fulfill. A timely reminder for a new year.