If you live on the Great Plains and you believed as the pantheists believe; that the spirit that we call God is embodied in everything that we see and touch, you would celebrate Christmas differently. Out here the snow does not lay thick and fluffy on pine bows. The trees are mostly gnarled cottonwoods with only bare, black branches twisting up against an empty sky. The snow is hard and icy and moves horizontally until it finds a calm spot behind a rock or in a draw where there is enough calm for it to settle and hunker down for the rest of the winter. It is rare to find enough snow, or children, in one place to make up a decent sledding party. I have never heard sleigh bells or dreamed the sound of reindeer hooves on our roof. The closest I can come to any of that is the stomping of horse hooves. They stand wooly and serious at the fence as they watch the peregrinations of snow-blanketed buffalo, moving above it all on the distant horizon.
All those things that make up that pantheistic God are held in that wide gulf of valley that separates the horses and the buffalo. To most people it seems like a lot of nothing, but to me it is a cornucopia of species, tangled in such a way that it is hard to argue against the pantheists. If we keep the television turned off, it is a quiet Christmas. There is nothing much to buy. No gadgets or fad gifts. Just the eternal stuff: fresh air, time to think, loved ones, and good, healthy food to share at a Christmas dinner.
Yesterday it blew and snowed a little. When the sun went down it was replaced by a startling white moon that shone on the skiffs of snow and lit Jill’s and my blue bedroom in a way that it has not been lit since last winter. As is often the case with me, I couldn’t sleep. I tried reading for a while, then a cup of hot coco. Finally I went to the bedroom window where I often lean, and peer out, and think. At first I was consumed by the midnight thoughts of disaster that we all experience; the mistakes made, the impending catastrophes, the hopelessness of it all. But the season was so present in that moonlit night that my jumbled memories of Christmas fought their way to the surface. It started with a stray, remembered first line of a carol: It came upon a midnight clear. I couldn’t remember what IT was so, last night, I assumed it was silence. Christmas, I thought – “The Prince of Peace”. “Love thy neighbor as thyself.” What a wonderful story. In its essence, it is a wonderful philosophy to live by. It has its problems of course: the fanaticism, the commercialism, and, in this age and place, the problems of how to honor all those neighbor-species between the horses and the moving buffalo at the top of the ridge.
Leaning against that window sill, with that moonlight on the dusting of snow, I begin the magic of late-night synthesis. I add two and six to get fourteen. When I divide by four, I get two, which I am sure is close to the right answer. I begin thinking about the buffalo roast Jill has been talking about roasting for our Christmas dinner. I think about the people she wants to invite and I look out into that bluish-white night and suddenly that caldron of species culminates into one. It is all in the buffalo that haunt the hillsides. For one late-night moment it all makes sense and I return to my bed to sleep hard until first light.
Comments 10
Dan,
How well you express our feelings for the Great Plains!!
Happy Holidays to you all at Wild Idea
Changed to gmail and have to change addy with you. BTW its 12/9, how did you and the buffs(esp CB, how is the fair Bull fairing?) fair in the storm, heard you have horrendous biting winds? We had the usual floods here in SE PA…but the suns out since noon now and what a pleasure!
If you want to know what I think, I think the first storm that just blew by was potent, but this second potential storm is even moreso.
It won’t be a big deal for the Dakotas because this land is used to this sort of thing. This land is “plains” after all – not that much different than a desert in many ways, but way better as long as the grass holds, and this is why ingiginous grass plants are so critical. Not only for the Plains but also for the Buffalo even for any wild Mustangs running around in the wind.
Where I live (North Carolina) we have some old mountains that make for a wonderful buffer, and we also have the Ocean on the coast, but I would not choose to live there. It is good to be a bit inland if you want my opinion.
Anyhow, this second storm that is forming by virtue of two highs and some lows flanking one of them for sure (and probably the other) seems to me like it is gonna create a “swath” that runs through the middle of the country, and this swath is mother nature talking to us.
Seems simple to me. Just like a family of horses. Or a herd of Buffalo for that matter.
Peace,
Ken
I have read this again and it is inspiring to me. The weather where I live of late has been “high energy” – some unusual occurances, and I do enjoy all the ways the light can bounce. Lightning as well and we had some here where I live on Thanksgiving evening.
Even today, the weather seems most potent to me today, but maybe I’m reading too much into it.
Anyhow, I’d like to publically say that this is a great site.
Happy Solstice to all!
Having read Dan’s musing for December, a friend and native of the Dakaotas had this to eloquently add…
“That’s high praise. That fellow can really write. I know every flake he’s writing about, and the albedo reflection of blue light from the
Moon imbued drifts. You can smell the ozone in that mist of shadowy indigo. Wolves feel it crisp up their fur as their muzzles ruffle with their breath held slave to the north wind. I know those flat lands of desolation and night frost well.
rick
You named what I often feel when travelling across South Dakota. What a blessing you are to the land.
Peace, John
Now, thats the true spirit of Christmas and the peace that it should bring to all of us. Thanks, Dan.
Yes – the spirit of Chrismas is all about Solstice and that time of year in the Northern Hemisphere when things just get so cold and icy, and easy food is hard to come by.
Now on another site that I frequent, it was put forth that little changes in the Sun can make huge differences here on planet Earth, and I agree. This is obvious. I mean where does all the energy for just about everything come from? It comes from the Sun – duh! The nearest star, and thank goodness it is there because without it none of us would be here.
Simple.
As far as the Copenhagen meeting is concerned, this meeting is a bunch of hogwash because science demands better and we ought know better. If science gets muddled with religion then we are done for.
The founders of the US of A did know better, but even the founders died as we all will (although Jefferson and Adams passing on the same day is just too much coincidence if you want my opinion). Not trying to be morbid, but I’m just saying that there is some wisdom that runs deeper and if we can’t appreciate this (and more importantly – SENSE it with all five of our senses) then we are done for. History says as much.
The horses and the buffalo already know this because some things are obvious.
OK – I won’t clutter up the posts here again, but I hope you all know how much I support this site. I have done so with my wallet and with my mouth.
Peace,
Ken
Dan, have you ever considered publishing a book/journal of these blogs? I think it would really bring attention to what you are doing. Also, have you ever thought about a web cam at the Ranch for your website? Sure would love to see what you guys see everyday.
Merry Christmas to you & Jill!!
Doreen
Dan: I love the God part and the imagery, but you need to use “lie” instead of “lay.” “Lie” is “to recline” and lay is “to put.”
Linda Huhn, English Major