Inner Light

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SHELTERS IN THE STORM
‘Oh no!’ I thought to myself when my friend told me her husband was stuck at work and we had to delay the Christmas Eve dinner. I stood in the living room smattered with flour and a dish rag on my shoulder wondering to myself, ‘Now what?’ I had just spent 3 hours preparing an apple pie from scratch, then whipped cream, and a salad with citrus garlic dressing. For a moment I was at a loss, but then we regrouped and moved the dinner to 8:30pm.
In an hour I was driving through the foothills in the dark and rain, down to the valley town in a Santa hat and a red dress pinned with my mother’s poinsettia broach. I stepped into the church with red and white ribbons wrapped around the pews and a beautiful nativity scene in front of the altar. I joined in the choir singing familiar carols. After the gospel readings the priest delivered his homily striding across the church as he described various ways to celebrate the birth of Christ by being with family and friends. There was a repeated refrain after each scenario: “This is Christmas!”

I was back in my car at 8:20pm and immediately the storm intensified. Flashes of light showed up the winter colors of sage green brush, ochre rock cliffs, and dark brown wet tree trunks. Then back to jet black night swirling with wind. I had to grip the steering wheel to get through puddles that made the car hydroplane into the opposing lane. The rain was smashing into the ground in sheets. A bout of hail rattled the car loudly, and made me wonder if the windshield would break.

I peered through the glass trying to see where to turn left. Had I passed it? No, there it was. I breathed a sigh of relief as I turned into a smaller road and up their driveway. In a few minutes I was standing in the pouring rain my arms full of my culinary offerings trying to figure out how to get past the iron gate. I couldn’t see a latch. ‘Help!’ I yelled. In a moment B was there to grab a tray and let me in. Phew! I had made it! What a journey.
J and B’s home was fully decorated – a huge Christmas tree with pretty ornaments and lights. Jazz renditions of carols playing. Dinner was delicious. It was relaxing to be with friends who had so many memories of G, and several of his glorious landscape paintings on their walls. An oasis.
I left at 10:40 pm and the storm was still raging. I crossed the two lane highway to descend into the canyon on a twisty narrow road. About 15 minutes in, not far from the creek at the bottom, I came across a shocking sight. I had a hard time taking in what I saw. A fir tree had fallen across the road completely blocking my way. I sat in my car stunned. It was 11pm and I had no signal on my cell phone.

There was nothing to do but back out. I was in a low carriage Honda Fit on a curvy road and I feared getting stuck in the shallow ditch on one side, and careening over the canyon edge on the other side. I turned my body to peer behind me and crept backwards. Twice I lost track of where the road was so I stopped and walked to the rear of the car to get my bearings. Finally I reached a wide spot where I could turn around and drive uphill. I pulled over when I got a signal and called the fire station. A guy said he’d get dressed and bring his saw. I posted my predicament on our local town facebook page and another guy said he was on his way to help.

All I had to do was sit in my car in the dark wet forest and wait in my Santa hat. I ate some leftover pie. I texted neighbors to keep me company. I posted updates on the Facebook thread. ‘I just saw two white pickups drive by!’ and then finally, after waiting an hour, I posted that all was clear and I was liberated. I arrived home at 12:20pm, grateful for friends, rescuers and the oasis of my own home. “This is Christmas!”

Rachel G.

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Eating Chinese For Christmas

Due to scheduling issues we are just us for Christmas this year. The kids aren’t arriving until the day after and we’re celebrating the day after that. Not an unusual occurrence for our family. Most of their growing up years our girls had to write letters to Santa asking him to arrive either early or late to accommodate their dad’s work schedule. This year he managed to get Christmas and the days after as holiday, the kids did not.

With no holiday festivities pushing the schedule we’ve had a very lazy morning. Somewhere around mid-morning he realized there was an opportunity, an experience that we’ve been missing, going out for Chinese food on Christmas Day. I’m Jewish (he’s not) and the cultural joke is that it’s tradition to do so.

Thank goodness for the internet. We do a search on Chinese restaurants, pick the two with the highest ratings, call them, and both are open. Flipping a coin we pick one and decide that’s where we’ll have lunch.

Walking in to the restaurant we’re greeted by a friendly server. The décor is cute with a wall display of bamboo and other plants. Tucked into the plants are toy pandas on one side and toy flamingos on the other. As we’re seated at our table I notice there are elegant chopsticks at our place setting, not the usual cheap wooden ones in a paper sleeve. Sadly that’s the last nice thing I’ll notice about the restaurant.

Our server comes over to enquire if we’d like a beverage. I choose hot green tea, he asks for iced tea. My green tea arrives in a mug with a tea bag hanging out of it. I’m disappointed. One of my favorite things at Chinese restaurants is the pot of tea and the lovely cha bei, the handle-less tea cups. We’re not off to a good start here.

After perusing the menu and discovering there are no egg rolls we choose our meal. this is another strike, eggrolls are one of our benchmark foods for deciding if it’s a good Chinese restaurant. Feeling hopeful for the main meal I order a standard dish that I tend to use as a determining factor, beef with broccoli. He chooses a noodle dish with shrimp, chicken and vegetables. We decide to share a plate of baby bok choy with fungus.

Eventually our food arrives. It looks delicious and we dive in. My first reach with my chopsticks is for a beautiful portobello mushroom cap from the top of the pile in the center of the verdant and tender looking bok choy. He stabs one with his fork. As we both pop the mushroom caps into our mouth our eyes widen in surprise. There is an overwhelming amount of clove in the sauce and the mushrooms have clearly soaked it all up. I reach for a piece of bok choy. It’s nicely cooked with a bit of texture, not too wilted, and it clearly has not soaked up as much sauce as the mushrooms, but there’s an undertone of clove standing at attention in this dish.

Turning to our main dishes, I cannot eat his due to a true food allergy to seafood but it looks delicious. Mine looks fairly standard. He says his tastes okay. I start on my beef with broccoli and am immediately disappointed. It’s ovesalted and the beef isn’t as tender as I prefer.

As we eat our meal I’m grateful for the best part of this meal, the good company and interesting conversation.

Eventually we finish, leaving behind most of the baby bok choy and mushrooms. After two mushrooms I just cannot take anymore clove and neither can he. In the interim the bok choy seems to have soaked up more of the sauce and it’s distinctly unpleasant.

As our server approaches the table with the check I ask for fortune cookies. “We don’t have fortune cookies here.” He nonchalantly replies. What?!?! No fortune cookies? How is that possible? Last time I checked they could be bought wholesale for as little as $0.04 each. The restaurant can’t afford $0.08 cents?

I’m not happy. Not because I love the taste of fortune cookies, actually I don’t know if anyone does, but because I want my fortune. And if I’m lucky my winning lotto number too. I smile at the server and decide we’re never going back to this restaurant.

Now I’m waiting for Christmas Day next year to try a different Chinese restaurant. Maybe I should check in advance to make sure they have fortune cookies.

Inner Light

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I picked C up at his home since it was too rainy for him to ride his motorcycle. I wanted to check out a Blue Christmas mass at St J’s Episcopal and he was curious too. Neither of us had been to this church or this kind of service before.

We found a modern space with high ceilings and low light, a few handfuls of congregants, and two friendly older women in priests’ vestments who gave us a warm welcome. We sang hymns with a pianist, and I discovered C had a strong, deep voice. He could sing on key, an ability that is elusive for me so I kept my volume down.

In the center of the space was a table with a basket of white candles and several bowls of sand. Four times we were invited to come up to the front.

The first time represented those that we’ve lost. I whispered G’s name as I lit my candle and placed it in the sand. The second time for situations or relationships we’ve lost. The third time for ourselves, and the last time for our faith. I went up each time, along with several people.

The gloomy light of the church had a warm glow from all the candles and it seemed like all of our sorrows were illuminating the space. I left feeling glad I had come.

It’s been raining hard for days and the image of all those candles casting light in the darkness is bright in my mind.

A Little Allergic to Pine Trees

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Pagan Holiday

Christmas was the holiday we were left out of, our house blank white with its blue shutters and no colored lights, no tree, nothing sparkly. At the choral concert, that last day of school before vacation, where we sang all the songs about hall decking and Bethlehem and Santa’s reindeer there was always that one token Hanukkah song, tucked in the middle, that embarrassed me. Jesus was everywhere. Jesus to me was the wooden statue in the dark corridor of the church where the Girl Scouts met, bloody paint dripping down its arms and from its forehead, wearing a loose diaper; that people worshiped such a thing was terrifying. Cleveland stayed bleak for us in December, the sky and streets and snow all shades of grey, the branches of maples and elms skeletal overhead.

In New York even the Jews have trees. “It’s a pagan holiday,” my husband would say, which is no doubt what his mother said to him. “It’s Christ’s birthday, and you’re Jewish,” I would say. I gave him shit about the tree, it being a betrayal of his heritage, his history; what was wrong with his mother, a renowned psychoanalyst and Jew with a nostalgia fondness for the Tyrolean Alps, fatherland of Nazis, though her younger brother died in Auschwitz? But he grew up with a tree, owned decaying historic ornaments, a scary rubber elf with a rubbed off face, for example, and anyway he didn’t believe in God, so he could not be an apostate of anything. He continued to love Christmas despite my bitching at him about it, and the years went by, and in one of them I surprised him by buying and decorating a tree, albeit a very small one. And I had to admit, the lights were so pretty in the bleak winter.

My best oldest friend took me to see an Alvin Ailey performance, this week, and in the final dance of the program one segment was performed to Etta James’s “At Last,” the song my new husband and I danced to for the first dance at our wedding, and I sobbed in the dark for the rest of the show and on the way home, bought a small tree from the French Canadian guy on 9th Avenue and 57th, and a stand. I ordered the ornaments and lights from Door Dash. New York City! Where you can bring your tree home in a yellow cab and have your pretty lights delivered. And I feel a little bad now, for my years-long stance about the tree; one of many things I accused him of or alleged or made an argument out of over 25 years that I did not need to say; though my kids would say: He loved that about you, that you gave him a hard time.

I think I may be a little allergic to pine trees; and I am as Jewish as ever, but when my daughter and I finished decorating the tree we stood back from it and agreed: It was pretty. He would have loved it.

Christmas Pot Pie

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It’s Christmas Day today. I feel a deep love and also sadness. I reached out yesterday to my 2 sisters and my brother in law to wish them a happy Christmas Eve.

I have been estranged from my younger sister for many years, though we have spoken on and off and until April we could communicate.
I woke to my older sister asking me to unblock the younger as she could’t see my texts only hers.

I told her I don’t have my younger sister blocked.
To be sure I sent the younger an email with a different email and also blocked my caller id. I made a call and it went through but hung up on.
I called again and she picked up with dead air.
I said Merry Christmas to her and she hung up.

Projections still are here, she blames someone and anyone for her life and it appears it’s me.

The timelines are shifting and in 2026 and even now I will no longer reach out. If there is no forgiveness or kindness, there is no point. I accept that now and can and have now let go.

One hopes at Christmas we could meet one another with kindness and love, if only for a moment. I wish her well in my heart.

I won’t carry this weight into the future. She is in another timeline. Sending her off with love. There is no space for this in my life anymore.

Merry Christmas if you celebrate and “Happy Festivus for the rest of us”

Mallor C.

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I’m writing now

Because if I don’t write now

I won’t write later.

In the shower earlier

All the words fell into place

From thin air

They flowed

Effortlessly

Boundlessly

Beautifully

My wish was for you to read those words

But they’re gone

I give you these instead

Coffee Drinker

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All a jumble in my head realizing I can’t do it all and I don’t care.
I’m shifting down like I used to in the old Model A jalopy I learned to drive on. When my folks downsized, my older brother got it, the jalopy. We called her Jilly. She still runs. He tells me all about her over and over again, and that his eldest grandson now has it, when we talk on the phone, he in his easing-out Alzheimer’s state of bliss, while his wife is slowly burning out, drained of her spark. Who’ll die first, the carer or the cared for? And my job is to stay in my lane and love them.

I reneged from the annual extended family potluck and Christmas Carol sing, last night, and found no need to explain myself. “See you tomorrow!” I promised. I’m in the shadows of these too much food too overwhelmed hosts, everyone trying, everyone wishing they were brave like me, just shifting gears and whispering no.

My shuttle cart, I bought when I moved in here, is so helpful for getting things up and downski the elevator to and from the car that lives in a warm underground garage. I sometimes ad “ski” to words and don’t explain myself. When I get up, I make my bed and always put the stuffy bear I gave my Mom, when she became bedridden, comfortably settled on the pillows. I take the time to do that.

Sometimes, turning, I find myself doing a little pivot step. Boop, boop, boopski. I’ll bring my slippers to my daughters for the day, it’s Christmas. I’m leaving at 8 to be there by 8:30.

More importantly, to me, is I made us English Muffins, light rye with caraway seeds. Tradition! We’ll pause for a lovely breakfast of Eggs Benedict or Florentine. I have the spinach and I have an amazing trick for the BEST Hollandaise! If you want it, all you have to do is comment! LOL. When I typed that, I laughed, because it was like posting on FB. Well into my 80s I do post, uh-huhski I do!

Can you tell I’ve had coffee? You’ll have the pleasure or not of reading this sans proofing at all. I told myself, just let it flow and do not lingereth. You have stockings to fill.

Soup Cook

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NOT SPEAKING OF SOUP

Christmas morning, and I’m making soup

From stock, turkey stock cooked down

From last night’s feast.

Making soup’s a savory slope.

Slowly gathering momentum

Toward delicately balanced perfection

As one adds a bit of this

And a pinch of what matters

Until, alas, steaming hot

Tastes and smells comingle in a fleeting paradise.

That, I’ll just say it, orgasmic collision

Of momentary A-Hah! contentment

Don’t talk.

Don’t speak to me of this or that soup.

Nor of magic ingredients.

Not now. Maybe later, once written

Analyzed, compared to other recipes

But now?  Hush.

Experience eclipses words.

Shhhhh…

Are we speaking of soup

Or magic in general?

Calm Joy

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Hello Fellow AloneTogetherers! 🙂

I’m writing in really high spirits which is exceptional, because I dare say, I have never felt so good on Xmas! On the contrary, in the past this might have been

some of the lowest points of the year! But this Christmas turned out the way I dreamt in my childhood: peaceful, calm and jolly, and in a wonderful company!!

With my family (mostly mum and brother back then) there was always some tension, drama and so much anxiety in my body. Then I decided to be alone for Christmas for many years because I really wanted to experience peace and quiet, and I realized how good it felt. I was sometimes also cat sitting during the holidays, and those little furry creatures really put a smile on my face while trying to eat the ornaments, plus I didn’t feel alone.

I just remember how much I always loved the scent of a xmas tree and sometimes even slept under it waking up to the branches above me, with decorations hanging from them. (The tree was on a chair and I slept on the floor on a mattress:) I also really love listening to classical music and Christmas carols (especially King’s College Choir, even though I’m not religious). They add to the peaceful yet festive vibes. I also have to admit that I love a good duck roast, even though I really care about animals and don’t support cruelty towards them at all. Same goes for the pine trees, I’d never choose to buy a cut down tree anymore, just either a small one in a pot, which could be planted out in the garden afterwards, or just a few branches for the lovely scent and the festive decor.

So what made my Christmas so lovely this year? That I spent the 24th with two friends from the Purifications Space who are the kindest, calmest, most polite yet fun gentlemen I’ve ever known. It’s been a true gift! In the morning we went to a small artsy town by the river to look at the old architecture, feel the festive vibes outside of the capital and sit in a cozy cafe with a piece of cake and a hot drink. I feel such warmth even just writing about it. 😊

Then we headed back to the city for a surprise location to have xmas dinner: a beautiful, lovely apartment as a courtesy of another Purification Space friend who flew out for the holidays. We pre-ordered tasty fish soup, stuffed cabbage and duck confit with potato puree and purple cabbage (the traditional xmas meals of this country) and enjoyed the local pastries for dessert with walnut and poppy seed fillings together with special chocolate pralines. Everything was so yummy!

Then we sat on the couch listening to carols from different cultures and other lovely, calm pieces of music. My favourite was listening to French chansons that one of my friends was singing to (he has such a beautiful, deep voice), I just love how the French language sounds! We had another cup of cocoa and desserts, pine tree branches around us decorated with fruit and some shiny ornaments. After my friends took a cab back to their hotel I was reading and sending xmas messages to dear friends which also made my heart full. I feel super blessed to have some of the kindest people in my life!

Luckily we couldn’t finish all the Christmas eve food so my friends will be back this afternoon for Christmas lunch, some more dessert and French songs, too!

😄 Then we will walk in the festive Castle area for the blue hour and the night fall, enjoying the view of the city, the bridges and river from the hilltop! Tomorrow (26th) I’m also planning to visit another Purification Space friend and say goodbye to the ones who celebrated with me before they travel back to the countryside.

What more can I ask for?

Happy Holidays to everyone!

SENTIENT BEING

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         Samsara is Nirvana, and Vice Versa. (At Least That’s What The Buddhists Say)

Last night it was Nirvana all the way.  Christmas Eve in beautiful downtown Woodstock NY, where Christmas lights brightened almost the entire town and Santa Claus was on the village green holding children on his knee while their proud and smiling parents took pictures to share on Facebook and all was right with the world.

The air was crisp, the mood was festive, and smiling faces greeted us as we  made our way along the crowded street to Nirvana, our all-time favorite Indian restaurant where we feasted on a truly divine meal consisting of Lamb Korma, Jumbo Prawns cooked Tandoori style, and a whole bunch of other starters and side dishes and we came away stuffed and satisfied to the max. A drunken woman fell off her chair and almost crashed into my wife, who helped her up and handed her the Christmas hat that fell off her head, for which she was very grateful.  Yes, I have fallen off a few chairs myself back in the day and so I know what that is like,

And best of all, we were home by 9pm.  I didn’t stop at my computer to play more Scrabble, nor did I check my iPhone17 for messages and the latest cute videos that people keep sending me (even though I have asked them not to) but headed straight to bed, read a few pages of  book I am reading called The Path of the Spiritual Warrior and was asleep by 10, after making a mental note to reconnect with Nature and live a healthy lifestyle as the book strongly urges me to do.

I woke up at 3am with a slight stomachache and couldn’t get back to sleep. I came downstairs, let the dogs and the cat out on the deck and turned on the Christmas lights which sparkle and brighten the entire living room and made some coffee and took my two daily droppers full of liquified  Lions Mane for my aging brain and turned on my computer to welcome in Christmas Day 2025.

Samsara or Nirvana, which will it be? Suffering and disappointment, or freedom and bliss?

I’m definitely leaning toward the freedom and bliss side of things but when I checked the refrigerator to see what’s on the Christmas Day menu what popped right out at me was some leftover franks and beans from Monday and some black bean soup that I made last week. Are there any restaurants open on Christmas Day?  I don’t think so but I will check anyway, just in case.

To make matters even worse, the three National Football League games they are televising this Christmas Day are all total flops since not even one of the 6 teams involved in these games have a chance in hell of making the playoffs so why even bother tuning in?  My friend who called me yesterday from California to wish me and my wife a Merry Christmas told me that professional basketball has an impressive slate of games on tap today on TV but I told him that I didn’t like professional basketball and had no intention of watching any of those highly touted games.

I am not unaware that having only leftovers to eat and nothing exciting  to watch on television is, for the most part, one of those First World Problems (FWPs) that annoy the shit out of the more open-minded, more open-hearted, more compassionate and  more all-embracing people among us, but there you have it. When push comes to shove, I’m just a regular, ordinary First World sentient being and though I’m  not particularly proud of it, I nevertheless don’t shy away from it either.

Always Look On The Bright Side of Life is a song by Monty Python on YouTube that people keep sending me to watch even though I have told them to stop sending me videos on YouTube to watch since I have seen enough cute cat and dog and little children videos to last at least 3 lifetimes already, but I have to say I have watched this video more than a few times and it never ceases to crack me up.

So, I’m looking on the Bright Side of Christmas Day.  We were too stuffed to eat dessert last night so we brought home 2 portions of saffron coated rice pudding from Nirvana and that sits in the refrigerator right alongside of the leftover franks and beans.  There’s nothing on television to capture my attention but there is always Scrabble with both humans and bots that I can play all day on my computer, which will take up hours of this Christmas Day I know.

When it comes to playing Scrabble on the computer with humans or with bots, for whatever reason I prefer playing with the bots.  I’m not sure why. Perhaps I will examine this in one of my subsequent Sentient Being Reports.  I think this bears looking into, I really do.

And then, there’s always Christmas music to enjoy.  My wife told me last night before going to bed that today, instead of going skiing as she had planned,  she intends to clean the house while listening to Christmas music. Let’s see if her intention holds up. Just in case it does, I am now going to Spotify and create a special Christmas song playlist just for her.  She will clean the house why I sit here playing Christmas music just for her, while playing Scrabble with humans and bots at the same time.

This is going to be a Wonderful Christmas Day after all.  Just think: A clean house for Christmas!

Praise the Lord, and Joy To the World!

Samsara is Nirvana indeed.

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