One of the interesting things about Alex Dimitrov’s poetry is his use of the word “again.”The first line of his poem “Summer Solstice” reads: “Again it’s the longest day of the year.” So naturally (and I use that word advisedly), his poem “Winter Solstice,” appearing 43 pages later in his book Love and Other Poems, begins “Again it’s the longest night of the year.” It shouldn’t surprise us then that his poem “More” in the same volume begins “How again after months there is awe,” or that “again” appears twice more in that short 18-liner. I am still in the early pages of the book, but as I continue reading I plan to pay attention to how often and in what ways he uses “again” to signify repetition in life and nature.
So, here we are, again, ten days past the winter solstice and switching out our yearly calendars. The days are finally lengthening, though ever so slowly. Here on Cape Cod we have not yet experienced a measurable snowfall, and it has been a few years since we had any significant December snow. I took a short walk yesterday to a place where I could look out over the bay near our home. The swans and geese I’ve come to expect weren’t there, and the scene was a bit bleak, but there were gentle ripples in the water and streaks of blue and yellow in the sky. It felt like nature waiting, resting, and bracing itself for harsher days.
For me, this week between Christmas and New Year’s has been pleasantly quiet. I’ve spent time with family, organized my workspace, gotten in some exercise, and set my course for what portends to be a busy winter. I’ve also finished reading some inspiring books and magazines, listened to thoughtful podcasts, and enjoyed my usual early winter comfort food of Beatles albums and Christmas songs. My calm before the storm.
And have no doubt, 2024 will be stormy. The political clouds that have been gathering in this country will darken into outright tempests before they finally subside. Even so, I believe we’ll make it through 2024 with the ship of state intact. The fundamental goodness of the American people and the strength of our institutions will triumph over our stubborn and intractable divisions.
In his first hit song, “Rock Me On The Water,” Jackson Browne wrote somewhat cryptically about an effort to escape the turmoil of a troubled world, where people were lost inside their houses, their walls burning and their towers turning. It was a rollicking, high-spirited, overtly escapist song, a song that, despite its oblique references to a nation’s struggles, managed to be cheerful and upbeat. The lines that made me think of it are these: “Oh, people, look among you, it’s there your hope must lie.”
Our hope lies among us. I have no illusions that all Americans will get along or that there won’t be serious challenges and conflicts in the coming year. But I am firmly optimistic that principle, decency, and our love for ordered liberty will prevail. Again.
Warmest wishes to all for a safe and happy New Year!