Midnight

I've had a hard year, and so have many of you. I would like to think I've made the world a better place for each of you who have stopped by here. Yet, I'm fully aware that I have not; in fact, that I have made the world more confusing, more exasperating, more enraging and less pleasant for some of you. I wish that it were otherwise, and I wish I were wiser.

Nevertheless, anonymity notwithstanding, I still have to thank many of you, in groups and as individuals, for doing things which made me a better person (or at least, feel better). I suppose I shall have to do this personally, but here, I am going to do it by pseudonym and cryptonym, by synonym and by euonym.

Three rings for leaders of the first elect
Seven for the others in that room of stone
Nine years might not a better crew select
One now has the privilege of choice alone
One ring to serve them all and set the tone

Three stars for thinkers of the atrament
Intellect and silliness in equal part
Some added spiciness a sacrament
Passion and emotion burning from the heart
Still unresolved is science over art

Three cheers for a genesis of wonder
Seven points for chronicles of dire sense
This whole year like judgement day of thunder
Drowning the ceremony of innocence
In cold-forged steel of shining excellence

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I am glad that I have had the privilege of serving you all. And here, as my anonymous friend also does, I can think of no better message to leave you than one of time, and the prospects thereof.

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Ecclesiastes 3

A Time for Everything

For everything there is a season,
a time for every purpose under heaven.

A time to be born and a time to die.
A time to sow and a time to harvest.
A time to kill and a time to heal.
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to cry and a time to laugh.
A time to grieve and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones.
A time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing.
A time to gain and a time to lose.
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear and a time to mend.
A time to be quiet and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate.
A time for war and a time for peace.

What profit is there for the one who labours? I have seen the travail that God has given to us all.
He has made everything beautiful in its own time. Yet He has planted eternity in the hearts of men, that they might not see the work of God from beginning to end.
So I concluded there is no good but for a man to rejoice, and to do good in his life. And also that every man should eat and drink, and enjoy the good of all his labour, for it is the gift of God.

And I know that whatever God does is final; nothing can be added to it or taken from it - this is done that people should fear Him. That which has been is now; and that which is to be has already been; and God requires an accounting for all things.

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I wish all of you a most enlightening new year. May God help your burden, your shadows, the darkness of your times, the gravity of the days, and the heaviness of your hearts all seem lighter. For all our troubles are light and momentary ones, leading in the end to the light of His presence. Amen.

Gratitude

It hit me this morning, as I was pouring ground Mocha Africana (from Mövenpick) into the cafetière, that 'gratitude' sounds like a conflation of 'great' and 'attitude', while 'latitude' sounds like a conflation of 'less' and 'attitude'. Then I said to myself, "That's a great idea, but it's a silly one, so I shall just feel good about it for a while and forget it." But then a very present help in time of moving came along, and I remembered to be grateful again, and so I couldn't quite forget the idea.

I am grateful to many people, who I suppose should remain relatively unnamed - this principle has always guided my blogging (except in the case of public figures). But how is it possible to express gratitude without names? With great difficulty. I think however that those who are being deliberately unnamed will know who they are. I elect to use verse, and use it more or less randomly, as namelessness permits.

Dancer and daughter;
Destroyer all black;
Grouchy young elflord
And clearer of stack;
Beckoning binder
And novelty earth;
All arbitrary
Reminder of worth;
Spider at centre,
Despoiler of shelves,
All should be happy
And proud of yourselves.

There are at least ten people hidden there, some more obvious than others. And of course, because it would be unfair or ungainly to try to squeeze more than sixty more names into verse, I must also thank those I have taught this year; none of my official students are (un)named above. I must thank them for bearing the burden of being taught by a strange person whose beliefs about education seem not to coincide with most other people's. I will try to be better next year, and God bless you all.