Oh Christmas Tree...Longer than a blog post, shorter than a novel

I am sitting up here in my office overlooking the living room where my Christmas tree is glowing softly and adding a sense of warmth to the room that is begging me to come down and curl up on the sofa with. Soft hues of gold and white and the tree’s own reflection in the living room window challenging the tree itself for the honors of being found simple, yet beautiful.

What I noticed in the reflection is that there are no details. Just muted light, softened by the glow of the tiny white lights and the clear glass bulbs and frosted gold bulbs and maybe, if you look really hard, you can make out some of the cherubs tucked into the branches. The reflections isn't quite as bright as the tree. Not as warm either. Interestingly enough, by looking at the reflection, you cannot see that it is a tree, but, by the lights and bulbs and icicles and garland, you are safe to assume that what you see is a tree.

Confession-my tree is a fake.

Yep, I said it…not proud, but there ya go!

I won’t go into defense mode as to the reasons I chose a "fake" tree over a "real" one as they were mainly economical, and that just makes cents!

The weekend after Thanksgiving, me and my daughter, along with one of my sons and his girlfriend brought out the Christmas decorations and put up our would be beautiful tree. (The tree that started out as a bunch of folded green bristles, stuffed into a smelly old box with a cold metal pole at its core, from which shape takes place).

You have to know, if you know me at all, that this is going “somewhere”. But, if you are a first time victim bear with me? Though most of my posts are wordy and ethereal, sometimes they are…well, who am I kidding? Just know that I mean well and I promise I won't take offense if you never come back.

I think it is funny how we can’t seem leave the house without checking our reflection in the mirror. I know for me, it is just a natural habit. It is that last assessment before facing the world at large and all the judgment that comes with it. The truth is, like the tree…I started out with a cold, hard center. I was bristly and lived most of my life in a box (probably not a smelly one, but sometimes I do stink) that I rarely ventured very far from.

The reality is, I decorate me like I decorate the Christmas tree. I carefully pick what I will “put on”. My clothes will most likely match, and often are a scaled down version of the latest trend. I put on my make up, do my hair, sure to have just the right amount of fluff and wisps to justify an actual “style”. My shoes will not always be comfortable, but definitely cute. My jewelry will match at least to a small degree and all this because I own a mirror.

I guess that is minimizing things a bit, because it isn’t ONLY because I own a mirror, but for the purpose of this post, we are sticking with it.

It really is cool to see the tree in the reflection in the window, but the truth is, it is not a complete and accurate truth of what the tree is really all about. To really know what the tree looks like…you have to look at the tree.

I would venture to guess that there is little need to wrap this up in a pretty bow, but then again, I tend to lean in that direction with my mind wanderings. So…here’s my stab at it.

I realized tonight (but not for the first time) that it is all well and good to present ourselves as adorned and beautiful. Ready as much for inspection as presentation. But I wonder if it doesn’t distract other’s from looking at the actual “me”? Like my tree for instance…sure, the reflection is beautiful, it even seems to have more sparkle in the glass, but it doesn’t have depth or dimension. You can't hang anything on the reflection, it is of no earthly good. Of course, when you defer to the tree, the opposite is true.

I guess it is safe to say that this observation is true of a fake tree as much as a live one. (Barring the argument that the fake tree will LONG out last the real one)…as I like to see it, for all intents and purposes, the minute the live tree is cut from the ground it is as dead as my fake one anyway.

As for humans, well…that is a different story. We can be alive and fake just as much as we can be alive and real. We have a choice. The bottom line isn't about what we are adorned with or even how we are perceived. Rather that we are exactly who we are in the box, or out of the box. We recognize that we are given an opportunity to shine, to emit a warmth that invites others to draw near and that there is a solid core to us too. One that shapes us into who and what we were meant to be. And from that core are the branches that eventually fill in and have the strength to hold what ever gets hung on them, if only for a season.

In summary, shall we reflect? ;)

Fake trees-Good.
Fake people-Not so much.

…and that’s a wrap!

A Familiar Place I've Never Been

I was commenting on some photo's on a friend's FaceBook page and came across a posted photograph that he had taken, "somewhere"...possibly (most likely) in the Yosemite area, and found myself stopped dead in my tracks, staring, and experiencing a reaction that I didn't expect to have. It was a beautiful photograph.

Though it was in black and white, you really could see color. There were trees on either side of the bank, climbing up the mountain in the background, majestic pines and other evergreens. If it wasn't an evergreen, it was mostly bare. Standing proud in its barroness, having earned their right to just "let go", for a season at least.

A red brick and mortar bridge, that I am certain was icy cold to the touch, arched over a stream of water that reflected the skies. Puffy white clouds, blue open space and the brightness of the sun that seems like it should have more power to warm the very place it lit up, and yet, if I were actually there I would almost bet I could see my breath in the broad light of day.

The air was crisp, and the only way to stay warm was to wrap yourself in tones of golden yellow and deep, burnt orange-red leaves as they wafted gracefully through the air or just barely hanging on, patiently waiting for their turn to dance their way to the ground as only a falling leaf can. I am certain I could smell the scent of the crushed leaves in the wet mud that hugged the pebbles and rocks along the banks of the body of water under the bridge.

I knew no other way to state what I commented on my friend's photograph other than what I actually said. It was something along the lines of him having photographed "a familiar place I have never been". It wasn't so profound to me at the moment I wrote it. It was simply what I meant, it made sense to me and so I said it. I rarely think first and speak later...we all know how dangerous that can be for me, but I tend to live on the dangerous side in that regard.

And now, as I sit here, watching "You've Got Mail", having just returned from a function earlier this evening, I couldn't help but be excited to get back and write out my thoughts.

I wondered why it was that that scene was familiar though, I am certain I had never been there. As anyone who knows me knows, nothing that goes through my thoughts ever stays in its simplest form for long, so I took it a step further and wondered how often I have missed what was meant to be seen and captured as a snapshot in my mind, just because I just wasn't looking. Of course, I will never know the answer to that this side of heaven, but I do know that today I have learned that I have a choice. I could slow down a little to take it in.

I do enjoy photography and love the eye of a great photographer. I truly appreciate the beauty that is captured as they look at my world, a great big, unimaginably borderless world and memorialize the moments and beauty that I just pass by simply because I move too fast.

See, I think photographers have the unique ability of seeing and experiencing life frame by frame. That is a very cool thing. I think I envy that.

I am not really sure where this is going. This post, I mean. I know that I am not done trying to understand the "familiarity of someplace I have never been", but, rather than rush the thought, I would rather take it a bite at a time.

...Meanwhile, I am going back to look at more pictures...I would venture to guess that there are many other familiar places I have never been.