The Black Dog of Christmas

What's this?

The Black Dog of Christmas is at our heels,

once again.

Plastic mistletoe just won't do.

Real hugs and kisses all around.

Nice dogy!

Every year since 1975 (save one) I have labored in the retail trade at Christmas time. Eleven years as a bookseller, twenty-two in the fine wine trade, I participated in the grueling grind of America's great spending binge holiday season. For those in the trenches of this annual ritual running of the gauntlet, this means extra hours, hastily snatched meals eaten while standing, desperate needs to meet with no time to lose, short tempers, disappointed shoppers with long faces and an unrelenting stream of Xmas music! I can't stress the horror of this last item enough. Muzak, Country Western, Jazz, Celtic Folk, Bing Crosby and Tiny Tim, I've heard 'em all... alot... many times... over and over...again and again... morn' 'till night... dawn to dusk... did I mention that I have heard a lot of Christmas music? Jingle bells become jangle bells!

Thus was born the Black Dog of Christmas. The dark mass of dread that was the Season to be Jolly, that "most wonderful time of the year". But last year I got a "time out", in the form of massive complications from my liver transplant. Bilomas and pneumonia, biliary drains and emergency visits in the dead of night and dozens of painful interventional procedures replaced the ol' grind and I missed the whole season. From Thanksgiving to New Year's Day I was pretty much a basket case.

The worst thing about silver linings is that big black cloud that's always in front of them. So, behind this particular mother of all black clouds there was one heck of a great silver lining. I experienced the loving care of my always-there-for-me wife, the support and encouragement of my family, my dear friends far and wide, the members of my church (St. Michael's by the Sea), the company of my crusty Vietnam-vet buddies at the San Marcos Vet Center, the terrific efforts of certain members of the cyber-Zen community, blogging away to free all sentient beings and the daily fellowship of the terrific sangha at the Vista Zen Center. In other words I experienced the sterling qualities of pretty much everyone I know.

What all of this leads up to is this. This year, when the Black Dog of Christmas came sniffing around I predictably tensed up, waiting for the blow. But instead, this year I have looked that dog in the eye and realized that I missed the old brut! I missed the harried shoppers, the hurried meals, the going the extra mile to help the customer. I've realized that the feeling I got when I was helping others has always been my payoff for my work. Sure I get a paycheck, but if it didn't make me feel good, I would't have lasted a week doing biz. And when someone comes in and tells me their dinner party was a great success or that their special someone was made happy by that perfect wine I led them to, it makes my day.

It may be that helping each other is exactly what we are all here to do.

"But Dave," you may fairly ask, "what about the Xmas music? Do you like that now?"

Nobody's perfect.

(I think that mutt just stained the carpet).

Xmas Card image by Edward Gorey

Peanuts on Cold Mountain

Peanuts by Charles Schulz

"Here we languish, a bunch of poor scholars,

Battered by extremes of hunger and cold.

Out of work, our only joy is poetry:

Scribble, scribble, we wear out our brains.

Who will read the works of such men?

On that point you can save your sighs.

We could inscribe our poems on biscuits

And homeless dogs wouldn't deign to nibble."

- from "Cold Mountainby Han Shan, Translation by Burton Watson

I've posted this classic poem by Han Shan on FTLO before, early in the year. It is a personal favorite. This morning when I saw this classic Peanuts reprint in the Los Angeles Times, I knew they belonged together. Did Charles Schulz, I wonder, ever read the Cold Mountain poems? Or is this word-devouring dog dilemma so universal that it must pop up ever-fresh in our experience?

Reading this strip carefully, I am saddened by the way the precocious young Rerun is already preparing lame excuses for the inevitable failures to come, what Leonard Cohen called his "invincible defeat". Rerun already knows that suffering is what's in store for him. And Snoopy is making plans to take full advantage of Rerun's dog-feeding dodge!

Half-Empty / Half-Full

Half-empty or half-full?

Friend,

This glass is empty

All the way to the bottom!

Glass image from: www.openwt.com/images/ Half-empty-glass-2.jpg

Crust

This morning at breakfast,

She is troubled by crust,

And by the thought

That all dust

Was once alive

As you and us.

Drop the Blade

Although you cut it

All day long,

It never bleeds.

Dice it a thousand times,

There are no pieces.

Chop at it with all your might,

You will never carry a stick away!

Drop the blade and you

May take the whole thing.

Forty Years Ago Today

It was then that I first experienced

that peculiarly familiar sensation

of being both inside

and outside

of time and space.

I stood in the busy bustle

of the Student Union square and watched

the light pour into my eyes through closed eyelids.

It seemed like nothing would ever be the same.

Nor was it.

Don't Let Bob Dylan Break Your Heart

Don't let Bob Dylan break your heart.

Don't let the past tear you apart.

Our lives are framed,

Not made, by art.

Don't let Bob Dylan break your heart.

It's not stepping stones alone

That call to you,

All the dead you've left

Still follow you.

Your stone was rolling from the start,

In changing times we play our part,

And all that come

Must soon depart.

Don't let Bob Dylan break your heart.

In posting this fresh-written poem I'd like to state that it is in no way a criticism of or a comment upon Bob Dylan himself. Its' inspiration was instead the impulse to melancholy nostalgia brought on by the hearing of emblematic songs of the "old days", AKA the Golden Age. And no one wrote more emblematic songs then than Bob Dylan! Some of you out there might quibble and bring up Lennon & McCartney, but this is my blog and that's my view. That's what the comment button below is for. How about it, what songs set off your nostalgia circuits, and how do you feel about that?