Sy Safransky, the founder, editor, and publisher of the fantastic independent, ad-free magazine, The Sun, writes a one-page section (mostly) every month called Sy Safransky’s Notebook. Here are two of my favorite entries this month:
The Winter Solstice arrives, and not a moment too soon. These long nights stir up too many ghosts. I’m ready for the days to start lengthening again. But who am I to question the movement of the seasons? My wish for some kind of eternal springtime is laughable, like Bush’s plan to bring democracy to Iraq. As if we had a surplus of democracy here in the United States. As if all our democratic institutions were humming along to peak efficiency, and everyone’s basic rights were being respected, and we were all feeling so magnificently equal that we could afford to give some of it away. But I digress. Forget Bush. Forget the sad fact that the future hasn’t turned out the way my high school social-studies teacher predicted. The light returns – no matter how many times we’ve been wrong. The light doesn’t vote for president, or run for president, or care who’s president. The light doesn’t study itself in the mirror, compare itself to last year’s light, wonder how many light years it has left. The light isn’t afraid of darkness. When the light arrives, darkness flees.
Today I’m thankful for the word Gratitude, a word in which I can make myself at home. It’s not a prestigious Park Avenue condominium of a word like transcendence or a palatial mansion of a word like enlightenment. Gratitude is four walls, a ceiling, a floor. And a chair? Yes! And a window!