»
Main Forums
»
Passions in Prose
»
A Christmas Letter
| Passions in Prose |
|
A Christmas Letter |
|
|
Logan Senior Member
since 2001-05-28
Posts 1641Arkansas |
This is a Christmas letter to my children that I wrote seven years ago. But the season brought it back up to me. I had tried to put this in poetic form sometime back, but this is the actual letter, so once again, kids, here it is..Your Old Man.. ----------------------------------------------------December 1994 My darling children, Yes there is Santa Claus, the yellow brick road, Tinker Bell, John Carter, Lazarus Long and Alice. There is the Wicked Witch, monsters under the bed, and things that go bump in the night. There are beautiful sunrises, sunsets and a million or so wonderful stars in the velvet black background of a summer night. There are storms and tempest, hurricanes and foam lashed waves. There is love, hate, peace, wars, affluence and street people. There is sharing, giving, envy, greed, happiness and despair. There are no single planes that we stay on. Life is a vast crucible which forms what we are. We go back into this crucible over and over again to leech out the impurities that fight the final tempering. A master swordsmith does not form his blade in a single draw. Nor so is our life formed from one seasoning. It is hard to understand why things happen, and we ask, why me? Not just once but probably many times. We use the very human emotions of envy and want, and feel sorry for ones lot in life. It is easier to succumb than to overcome. If we take what life hands us back into the crucible each time and separate the bad from the good particles, we are stronger for each emergence. The pettiness of life is sloughed off like old skin and skimmed away from the strength of understanding our selves Each experience in life can shrivel or strengthen until the next experience, which will come. I hesitate to say that life is a continuous battle. As in all things, there is peace between the wars. However, each war is better fought if we are stronger at the start of each conflict, until finally it seems more of a brief skirmish instead of a major war. Inner strength has always been better than physical strength. Take the time to have tea with Alice, walk the yellow brick road with Dorothy and ToTo, fly with Peter Pan and visit the twin towers of Helium on Barsoom. Smell the roses and visit the zoo. Look at the stars or walk in the rain. Play with a kitten or talk to an old man or woman. Love life and play the game because it has always been a game, but who wants to be a pawn? Accept what is given to your lot in life; then temper it to your advantage. We can not change what we are, but we can control what we become. The sirens of Odysseus are no less dangerous then thoughts of what we can not change. It is all so easy to fall into the pits of despair, I have struggled up the walls of that pit many many times in my life, but the edge of the pit is always there and the yellow brick road leads from that edge. Away from the things that go bump in the night. John, what was more important, watching the butterfly in the flowers or hearing the crack of the ball? Becky, was the color of the sky really important, or how you perceived it? Amy, was it important that the treasure was not found or the fact we looked for it? I think what fit the inner soul of each is the answer, if there ever is really an answer. Take the time to stop and feel, taste and smell and enjoy all that you are and all that you can become. When things look rough and hard to bear, let your Dad take you on the magic carpet of Sinbad and tour all the magic kingdoms and sing you a song. Your Loving Old Man, |
||
| © Copyright 2001 Logan - All Rights Reserved | |||
Mysteria 
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328British Columbia, Canada |
"A master swordsmith does not form his blade in a single draw. Nor so is our life formed from one seasoning." I would say they have one wonderful "Old Dad" Yanno Logan, I think this would loose a lot if you tried to put it into a structured poetic form, (cheat like I do, just split it up and run it down the page - then it looks like a poem - lol ) and why you ask - because this type of writing comes from the heart and has no form. This was truly a wonderful piece of writing just the way it is. And if your carpet passes through Canada, I shall hop on for a wee ride!  Excellent heart-felt letter.~*~ Carpe' Diem ~*~ |
||
|
Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Here then is a father for all seasons, for all children...a builder of the fire to make us warm, the weaver of tales to hold us strong...a Keeper of the Hearth, and Heart... |
||
|
Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
A beautiful letter sir. Thank you for sharing it with us.  |
||
|
Enchantress Member Empyrean
since 2001-08-14
Posts 35113Canada eh. |
Logan...any words I say here will not do this letter justice. I would just like to say 'thank you' gentle man. May the good Lord continue to bless and keep you...in this lifetime and all those to come.... ~hugs, Nancy~ "A dream is a wish your heart makes..." |
||
|
Siofra
since 2000-09-28
Posts 551State of Suspended Passion |
YOu and your stories are wonderful, Logan.  I think I will show this one to my own Dad. I am many. |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
