Ending and Beginning

 

Rising on the last day of the year, and rising on the first day of the year encourages some reflection. Thankfulness always rises to the top with each year, reflecting on the blessings that I did not deserve, and to me I feel that to those who receive much, much is required. Meaning, I feel the responsibility to use my gifts well, for good. To hopefully do good, create good, and be a blessing to someone, even if only in a small way. As always, during Advent and Christmas I read the poetry anthology from Malcolm Guite Waiting on the Word. Somehow I am enjoying it even more than previous years, and I ask myself why. I realize that I have felt less stressed and anxious this year. I take in moments and appreciate them, noticing the details of a moment. Taking a moment to linger. When I allow myself that space I am filled with peace and calm. Giving myself that clarity of time to ponder. To let words sink in, perhaps as if for the first time.

The poem for the last day of the year was Thomas Hardy's "The Darkling Thrush", and it's a beautiful year end reflection on the gloom of the world suddenly turned by the sing-song of a Thrush choosing to "fling his soul upon the growing gloom". Oh, so beautiful, I love that. I will aim to fling myself upon the growing gloom everyday.

Against the darkness this Thrush sings, when the frost is "spectre-grey" and the land has features that resemble "His crypt the cloudy canopy, the wind his death-lament".  Infinite hopelessness. No germ of bloom to come or light to shine. It's a desolate feeling of dread and gloom at the end of the year (Hardy wrote this poem on December 31, 1900).

But then the song is heard, and the final stanza-

So little cause for carolings
of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware. 

To Hardy, who turned his back on faith, this is even more hopeful. As he catches a glimpse of joy amidst dark gloom you can't help but wonder if he followed that trail of light to see Christ as the source of all joy and truth. The hope reflects that joy - when one can be filled with joy even whilst dwelling in darkness, grief, or gloom. The joy with Christ is not dependent on any of those things of the world. It dwells within us through all things - it is the darkling Thrush that never stops singing the tune of the heavenly realm we often block ourselves from hearing/seeing. It's there, but do we choose to not to attend to it, only seeing the dead year, the dread and threat, and completely ignore the light that sits there singing amidst it all, knowing that what is right there is not all there is. There is more beyond what we can see. Much more is around us - song and presence. Do we not entertain angels unaware? Lingering in the mist, near the cracks of gloom, all is riven to the glory of God, hidden from those who will not see, who choose not to see.

Welcome 2025!