Oh Holy Night Date Friday, April 19, 2024 - 10:16 AM PST Topic Experiences Night can be a magical time in winter. The cold makes things sharper, the lights are darker on Earth, but brighter in the sky. The moon shines with clarity unimaginable; it's face and every detail of it for people to view with the naked eye. I had forgotten how much I love the winters in the mountains. Between storms, there is a wide crack in the clouds, like a river passing through the sky, rich black-gray-blue ground, rippling and moving, while a clear river of the heavens passes through the great dome of the sky. A river of stars, sharp and beautiful and bright, and the moon like a giant fish or pebble at some point in it while it move slowly downstream, that beautiful silver-white that shines make the land light. And Earth is a heaven all itself; that bright moon shines down it's light on the ground, illuminating the forest dark and the snow on every surface it can stand on. Each tree and bush, each field, becomes a magical white surface, smooth and untouachable, shades of white and blue and black and green. All is simple, and beautiful, and to reach out and touch it is to caress of the bosom of the gods of the Earth. In the fields, and the smooth angled surfaces of the mountains, wind takes figure. The winds dance in a dance that you can only see rarely, if ever. They take up their dance in a dress of snow; donning a silvery-blue gown to waltz just above the ground and into the sky, and take flight. Gentle curves and arcs, swinging forward, stopping, down, and up again. You can follow a single star on that great silver-blue dress, watch it, become lost in it, and become the grain itself, flying and twisting in magical arcs through the sky, under the watchful gaze of the river in the heavens and on the great white ballroom floor of the earth. It's cold again, and people are, in a tragic way, spending only a little time in front of the fire for the first time this year or in many years or putting it off for another year. Some people don't even have fireplaces for real wood; gas stoves and fake wood are in many homes. For a long time before Christmas, and for a long time after Christmas, I will go out on the porch, and look for that river int he heavens, and look at the trees, and look at the dance of the snow and feel the cold wind kissing my cheek. And I will go and sit in front of the fire to warm my bones. Each night is holy, not just one single day of the year. Celebrate every one you can, if not in front of the fireplace, with people you love. And, as the song says, "if you can't be with the one you love, love the ones you're with." But love, and live. This article comes from Shmeng http://www.shmeng.com/ The URL for this story is: http://www.shmeng.com/modules.php?op=modload&name=News&file=article&sid=447