“Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young Prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the Prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. 

But then, one winter’s night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the Prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. And when he dismissed her again, the old woman’s ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. 

The Prince tried to apologize, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart. And as punishment, she transformed him into a hideous Beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there. 

Ashamed of his monstrous form, the Beast concealed himself inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. 

The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his twenty-first year. If he could learn to love another and earn their love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a Beast for all time. 

As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope
For who could ever learn to love a Beast?”

~ ‘Beauty and the Beast’

What an awful month this has been, and so far what an awful year, so there is no love lost and no hesitation in saying goodbye to this particular January. Tomorrow begins a new month – the last full month of winter – and I’m working on a release of a project/tour book that I did twenty years ago. That’s if I find the balls to show off some very questionable pics and poses, which is an empty threat, because of course I will. 

As for the final gasp of January, everyone I know is ready to put it to rest, so let’s celebrate the passing of the first full month of winter, all thirty-one days of it, all the awfulness of it, all the trying and terrifying brutality of it…

And starting tomorrow, we will do our best to escape – a flight of fancy fantasy awaits, and a fairy is about to take wing… 

These are difficult days. 

I feel torn by wanting to disconnect completely, and feeling responsible for being somewhat aware of the basic downfall of our country. 

Mostly I watch winter go by outside the front window, and in our living room all is quiet and calm. It feels selfish. It also feels like survival. 

There is an infuriating isolation of watching what you predicted so tragically playing out.

And there is a loneliness in being right that diminishes any joy in it. 

Every once in a while I’ll call my friend Chris for no substantial reason other than to tell him I made a killer breakfast or some other insignificant and largely mundane bit of information (often the call goes out after a therapy session when I’m in a rare mood to talk). Here’s how a recent check-in went:

ME: I just made the most amazing French toast, using egg nog! And it’s a life-changing experience. 

CHRIS: I’m a father who has to drop off his kid at school.

ME: I know… why did you choose that life?

That was actually the end of the conversation.

At this time in our country’s history, remember to check on your friends – they’re hurting, and they’re people too. 

Winter has been having its way with me, and rather than fight that, or work on embracing it, I’ve lately been letting it simply flow. I feel my body slowing down a bit, and I’ve been taking time to simply watch winter as it goes by. A certain bit of slumber and hibernation often come into play during this season, and I lean into this sense of nesting; staying home becomes comfortable habit, one that I’ll have to break when spring comes again. For now, I go with my sedentary heart and mind, lounging and cuddling into our unmade bed. 

I’ll sink into the couch in late afternoon, as the last rays of sunlight fall into the living room, and read a little, or go into my daily meditation. It is a place of peace, and a time of tranquility, somewhat at odds with the rest of the world, and that’s always been my way. 

Even the prickliest among us, and I acknowledge I may one of them, deserve some love. We don’t always mean to attack, it’s just our armor, and some of us needed that armor to survive. If you were lucky enough not to need any, consider yourself fortunate. As for those who make others go through a little more to love them, I choose to think that sometimes it’s worth the effort. Love is always worth the effort. 

We’ve had several beautiful sunsets this past week, a gift in January when skies are typically gray and drab. With everything happening in the world right now, such a scene is worthy of gratitude, worthy of noting, worthy of a blog post without much else. 

God knows I’ve been a prick in the past, and in many instances I’ve been largely sorry for it. Sometimes, however, it’s been a matter of survival – emotional survival – when being anything other than a prick would have resulted in someone walking all over my ass. Thankfully, those days are mostly done – both of me being a prick, and of needing to be a prick. When you get to a certain point in your life, you’re either ok with who you’ve become, or you work to be something better than you are today. Dangling somewhere between the two is where I find myself now, and it’s not a bad place to be. 

Two candles burn on a winter’s night. One end at a time – as there are two we need not burn one at both ends. That’s the quickest way to burn a candle out, and make a mess in the process. Instead, two are better than one, and the glow of a duo makes quick work of the darkness, even on a Monday night, which is when this is being written. 

My friend Ann once remarked that she loves Monday as it offers the chance to start again fresh. I love the sentiment, even as I find it difficult to love the Monday aspect. I went into the day with that mindset, however and for whatever reason the day wasn’t as bad as it usually is. The sun and slightly warmer temps no doubt helped contribute to the change in attitude, but maybe we have more of a say in any given day than we think we do. I’m going to try it again today; Tuesdays are always more trying than Mondays because we think they won’t be. 

In the meantime, before the light of the day really kicks in, there is candlelight.