Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Champions of the Night Sky (A Christmas Musing)

“I’m always warm when you’re around, something I would’ve never imagined, not on a cold day like today. But it’s true. You warm me by the sun.”

Her eyes sparkled in the winter night when she smiled. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were rosy from the cold. Snowflakes fell slow and lazily around them, like tiny discs of white.

“Cliches, though, my dear, have only so much merit in today’s world. Nobody’s original anymore. So, when I tell you, you are warm like the sun, it’s not as though I’m the first person to have said it.”

She scooted closer, their thighs touching. “Can you taste the peppermint in that cocoa?”

“Yes,” he said, taking a sip. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

They were downtown, between the festive, taller buildings of the city, everything decorated in some shape, form or other. Lights, lights, and more lights. They were everywhere, white lights, multi-colored lights, on the trees, along the eaves of buildings, lampposts, and store windows. Giant wreathes and red ribbons hung from streetlights. There was a giant candy cane on every corner.

The man and woman were sitting on a bench. In front of them, a small ice rink was packed with skaters of all ages, couples, the elderly, children and families, teenage boys and girls, most of them slow-going, stumbling awkwardly, loping, looking as though they were running in place without really moving at all. The man and woman laughed as they watched them. It was festive, comical, joyous, and enchanting at the same time.

They sat for a while in silence before she said, “Like the sun, huh?”

He nodded and smiled. “Not very original, is it?”

“Why is that so important to you? To be original?”

“Probably because I want you to know you are something more to me than clichés, than words unspoken, than things I dream about, certain lines from certain poetry, all the things guys try to say to woo the heart of their ladies fair. Some say it for a million different reasons, because they want to win those fair hearts. Some say it for selfish reasons we all know about already. I read in this book about a guy who said, ‘You are the sun and the moon,’ and he thought he was the first person to say it, and the woman replied by rolling her eyes, emasculating him with a huge, ‘Oh, please, I’ve heard it all before.’ So, when a man meets a woman he truly loves, truly likes, from the bottom of his heart, and knows she is special, unlike anything he has ever met before, he wonders what he can do to prove he isn’t a selfish ass with only one thing on his mind, because in today’s world, it seems that’s the first thing a woman thinks when a man confronts her. It’s unfortunate, but it’s true. And who can blame them? He’s trying to tell her he doesn’t want her for one simple reason. That he wants her for the romance, the poetry, the emotional commitment, the beauty, the crying and the pain that comes with it. All of it. That he wants her to know this, that she is more than just a girl, just a woman to him. But that’s what all the guys say, so what happens when a guy actually means it? How can she believe him? He tries to say it differently. Poets get accused of using their words prettily to get what they want. They use their talents to woo the ladies. Musicians are only using their music. Painters, too, and so they don’t really mean it. They’re just using what they’re good at. But what about the man who knows none of that, who only has that one means to express himself? What about the man who is just a man, whose dreams are dead or maybe never had a dream at all except to love someone and be loved? Maybe he realizes he isn’t going to change the world, that he isn’t going to make a difference, or save the planet or even be remotely known or successful in any way at all? Maybe he’s just trying to be real and honest with himself and feel and be unafraid of all and everything. What about the man who is just an honest, good man in his heart and has only his honest, good heart to give? Today, that doesn’t seem like enough. It’s not an excuse. It’s truth. What if he isn’t rich or has a nice home or is well known in any way? Does that make him less a man, less able to love and be loved if he has only found the space in his heart that matters most? It’s like a man just wants to be believed, accepted, appreciated for what he is, a thinking, feeling human being because it is just that and nothing more. He does the best he can, and he is true and noble and honest with himself and everyone he deals with. Because that’s the only thing that’s true. It’s the only thing that matters. In the end, what else is there? But sometimes it seems like you just can’t win or nobody cares about your intentions or what things mean. I am not famous. I am not rich. I do not live in a mansion by the sea. I’m lucky to have a job, a home, and food to eat. And I just know it’s warm. I just know it’s comfortable when you’re around and that I want you to be happy. I know, even when you’re not around, the thought of you is enough. It’s nice to think about. I like just thinking about you. I have this smile on my face without even knowing it. People ask me all the time, ‘Why the hell are you smiling?’ And I say, ‘I didn’t realize I was smiling.’ I just don’t feel cold. Even now. Here. Frozen to the bone as I should be. You know it’s cold. You can see my breath. But not cold at all. And rich. Rich inside because everything is in this moment. Everything that could ever be and ever was is right here and that’s all that matters, all I care about. And you. Making sure you are happy, wanting you to be happy.”

“I have never been happier. It’s the same for us, too, you know? When you want to express something and you just don’t know how. When you want to prove you’re a good woman to the man you love. When you want to prove to him how true, how loving and supportive you will be to him. No matter what, no matter where, with everything. All you can do is feel it. So, you feel it. You let yourself feel it. And it’s the best feeling in the world. There is no feeling like it. There never will be a feeling like it, you know? You just go with it. You embrace it. You dance, you sing, you celebrate this feeling and prove how much you love. Like now. You hold it. You still it. You celebrate it because this is what it’s all about, Charlie Brown.”

He laughed.

“I think it’s neat they have Christmas music playing while they skate, don’t you?” she asked.

He nodded. “I do.”

He loved the sound of the skates on the ice, the laughter and the jeering, raucous shouts from some of the kids. He watched a middle-aged couple with their arms locked together, skating as though not a single person existed, oblivious to everyone else but each other.

“So, you’re not cold, either?”

“No,” she said. “But it is dang good cocoa.”

They giggled.

“I’m trying to turn it into something magical, maybe, something cosmic, like I want it to mean this great, perfect thing where everything gets answered, the questions to life, the miracle, all of it starts to make sense. In a moment like this, in the moments we’ve had, I always want to turn it into something supernatural. Something out of this world. Maybe I ruin it by doing that. You try to capture what it means to you, I guess, in a way you understand. That you just want it to mean something to you, too, the other person. You worry it won’t mean anything to them like it does for you.”

“So, let it mean something,” she said. “And let it be cosmic and magical. And if that’s what it means to you, then let it be that. I’m the one who feels lucky, you know? That you tell me these things, that they do mean that much to you. Do you know what that means to me that it means so much to you?”

He raised his eyebrows and looked at her. “Well said,” he told her. “So yes, it means the world to me. It means everything to me that we can just sit here, not thinking about anything but this, the kids skating, the music playing, that it doesn’t have to make sense or be explained, because it’s night and it’s cold, and the snow is falling, and my head is crisp, clearer than it has ever been, like what the night sky must look like above all these clouds and there isn’t a single break in the sky except for the stars. That’s how I feel lately with you. And my heart is this giant round ball of vibrating white light. I know it’s crazy. But that’s how I’ve always felt with you. And if anyone turned this into a little story, or a little vignette or something, all the guys would throw up over the complete mushiness of it, and maybe some of the girls would, too, because of all the tenderness and stuff just isn’t in these days. The trend is shallow, no meaning, men being weak and women being strong. It’s all reversed again for the wrong reasons with no balance and it’s still creating havoc. The trend is for women to be sword carrying warriors, like what you see in video games and movies, and men…well, I’m not sure what men are supposed to be anymore. I don’t even think men know what they’re supposed to be. Why can’t people just be the honest people they are? I want you to be the beautiful woman you are with the setting we’re in, with all the Christmas lights, the music, the snow, the holiday cheer everywhere, as though your heart were bursting with magic and fortune. As though the Three Spirits—the Past, The Present, and The Future—were striving in everyone, trying to keep Christmas all the year, and not just one day of the year. That’s what it is, and that’s how it will be, and even this moment has a touch of magic, something surreal about it, and I just wanted to say that because that’s the way it is.”

She laughed at his ranting, then was quiet for a time, closing her eyes. She heaved a heavy sigh, smiled wide and looked at him. “You are my champion of the night sky, my warrior prince and poet. You are my happy ending. The world is not made for archetypes, though they are used often, if not always. But I think people think they are supposed to be a certain thing, and that’s when it gets all messed up. I think times are changing, and we are supposed to be more than that, more than what we have all been, all of us, man, woman, child. You make me feel strong and beautiful as the woman I am, no matter what, and it’s just because you are the man you are. Do you realize that? It’s not something you go out of your way to do. It’s just who you are. People are strong because they are weak and tender. This is an age where the heart and soul are put to the test, where the mind is fragile but all powerful, where it is bravest to embrace every vice, fear, and weakness, and that, to me, is the sign of a true champion. That is the hero I want to have save me from the castle, love. Only through vulnerability can you see how invulnerable you really are. You are not afraid of yourself or the world around you. You see everyone as beautiful, as having goodness in them, a warm heart. Everyone is just fine the way they are. Everyone’s point of view is right. There is no right or wrong. We all think and feel the same things. We just do it differently, because we are different, if that makes any sense.”

He smiled and nodded. “Spoken like a true philosopher, my dear.”

She snuggled closer and leaned her head against his arm. “It means a lot that it means so much to you. Does that answer your question?”

“It answers everything.”

“Merry Christmas, love.”

“Merry Christmas, my dear,” he said.

Snowflakes fell like tiny suns, like tiny moons, silver and white in the Christmas lights. Children laughed and played. Bells chimed from nearby. A warm glow spread throughout the city streets and the night sky looked down upon it all and smiled.


Merry Christmas Everyone!