Mr. Wilson's Arboretum

January 6, 2005

Epiphany

2000

2001

2002

2003

2004

You can follow a star but you’ll never reach it, not here on Earth.
At best you arrive, as the Magi did, at the designated place, but the Star remains supernal; directly overhead to be sure, but still beyond our Earthly realm. Epiphany signals the realization that what is above also dwells with us, but the Mystery of this Presence is that it is simultaneously immediate and remote.

I’ve spent the last five years following a star, or a bird, or something similarly far and fleeting. Still, like the top of a Tulip Tree, no matter how distant it may be it maintains some connection with the Earth. My gaze goes further than my feet can follow, but epiphanies will come from looking both ways: near and far, within and without.

Am I any nearer than I was?
Looking back at my Epiphany posts, the themes of manifestation, revelation and recognition are constant. Whether framed in terms of wise kings or empty birds’ nests, the posts from the first three years of the Arboretum explored nuances of those ideas, leading to 2003’s offering of my own sort of revelation in the form of answers to the year’s Christmas riddles.

Those were only games of words and notions. Last year I was faced with the very real realization that my life was in the process of changing, and though I could recognize that fact I couldn’t really comprehend it until it was fully manifest. In that state of flux I found continuity in the Arboretum, although I was beginning to feel the format was flagging. I began the cycle again, but with an eye to collecting the previous posts and summarizing my five years’ findings.

I’m not sure how well that’s worked; there’s been some genuine consolidation of thought, but in other cases I’ve basically just appended this year’s post to a laundry list of past ones. The immediacy of the living Year is what I was originally after, and sometimes it may have overridden my attempts at summing up. And perhaps that’s as it should be. At least I’ve provided a thread through the years.

As it is, I’m somewhat impressed by how much I’ve been able to wring from these clichéd occasions, but repetition does become an issue at a certain point. Not that some things aren’t worth repeating, either for the sake of making the point, or for sheer beauty, like the chorus of a song, but eventually we become habituated. The Arboretum was meant to reveal the wonders hidden behind the habitual, but after five years it has become a habit in itself, and I run the risk of boring my readers, or myself.

A year ago on this day I looked into the New Year and saw change coming. That was obvious enough, but I didn’t know just how and what. Needing a job was the main thing, but in the end the biggest change was (as is so often the case) totally unexpected.
I moved.
As I write this I am recently ensconced in a new residence. After sixteen years in a largely satisfactory situation, the offer arose to take a space in a building bought by some good friends from DMTree. Moving was the last thing I was expecting to do, but it was also something that I had a certain longing for, although it was hard to bring myself to make the break. That, coming on the heels of my long “vacation” followed by the new job, has made the last year one of the most disjunctive in my life.

Through it all, as I said, the Arboretum provided continuity. Yet it was hard to pull together the posts amid changing schedules and commitments. And I’ve grown tired of the deadlines, and I’d like to put my energies into some other things. So after five years I’m doing away with the Holiday format, and I’m rescinding my promise to report from Central Park. That doesn’t mean I won’t post for a Holiday, or from the Park, but I’m giving no guarantees. For one thing, I’m now nearer to Prospect Park, so you may see something from there. And maybe you’ll see more in general, as I’d like to produce more visual material, beyond the photos and the once-a-year Christmas cards. And there are some more in-depth topics I’d like to tackle; writing that will take me beyond the deadline-driven Holiday posts with their prescribed themes. Or maybe I’ll just be lazy, and give up altogether…

…well, I don’t think that will happen, but I do think it’s time for a change around here, in keeping with the rest of my life, and in recognition of what has been achieved. I hope the repository of the last five years will stand as a source that may be dipped into at need, maintaining relevance to our passing cycles; otherwise, let the New Year write a story of its own.

So that’s my New Year’s revelation; I haven’t gained the stars but I hope I’ve reflected a little of the light.
Light, they say, goes on forever, or at least until it strikes something. When that happens, the result is illumination, but also a shadow cast behind. If I turn away from the light it’s only to shine a new beam into the dark. When all the World is illuminated, then every day will be a Holiday, and the celebration will go on and on…
All it takes is an epiphany.

January 5, 2005

Epiphany

The Twelfth Day of Christmas

The Eleventh Day of Christmas

The Tenth Day of Christmas

The Ninth Day of Christmas

The Eighth Day of Christmas

The Seventh Day of Christmas

The Sixth Day of Christmas

The Fifth Day of Christmas

The Fourth Day of Christmas

The Third Day of Christmas

The Second Day of Christmas