The first day in December, the first Sunday in December, and the first Sunday in Advent. Happy Sunday, Happy Advent. Happy December. I never used to think of much other than Christmas in December. Thinking about gifts to buy and whether or not a ten foot tree was more work than fun. Thinking about Christmas past and family gatherings. All of the stuff that most people are concerned with, except for the lights. I was never big on decorations that blink or dance or resemble abominable snowmen even though they're intended to be Santas or Saints.
A few years ago, I had a bad December. An era ended for me and I felt pretty bad about it. I recovered sometime the next March. I began sitting again and not thinking again and reading the things that always put me in the happy place. I learned something I'd learned before and that I'll probably have to learn again someday: alone is not lonesome. Lonesome is a self-imposed restriction on contentment, as are anger, greed, and all of the other ways in which we make ourselves miserable.
This December holds promise. Sitting needs work. No-Mind needs work. Creativity needs work. And when I've got something to do, I'm content. So up, up, and away minions of the Stone Street, it's Christmas time in the city.
