Merry Christmas!

I hope you all have a good one.

I have been completely and profoundly unable to comprehend that these are my last few days in America. However, Anita called today, and we had a good chat. She also told me that they're moving to Germany in three months, to a "super house" about an hour away from Scharnstein. Wow. That's news.

So... I'm kind of gearing up. :)

I have five more nights at home. I don't care how jealous people are, mostly I'm just scared. I have moments when I catch a breath of that wind of change that tastes so good... oddly enough, those times are most when I feel that my family will continue to do grow even while I'm in Austria. I don't feel bummed that I'll be missing stuff -- just relieved that we're not disbanding or anything. It's going to happen someday; everyone will eventually go their separate ways, and then we'll have family reunions and remember the times when we could all be together at the same time. The other night when I was mourning the fact that the Shakespeare days, the Sunday brunch days, were all drifting astern, Lucy reminded me that that's just what happens when one period of life replaces another. Every time has its own peculiar beauty, and to bemoan the loss of a previous one is to miss the one in front of you.

A lot of the time I just have this cloud of terror hanging over me -- mostly, right now, terror of navigating the Munich/Linz airports, switching planes, and getting through security without losing myself hopelessly. Occasionally I can de-stress enough to feel excited. It's an entirely new stage of my life. Who knows where I'll go from here? And it'll probably be the best thing that's happened to me, ever. I know it will all work out for good. But I also need to take a chill pill.

I see the moon, and the moon sees me

On Friday I saw the moon for the first time. I went outside to look because the news said it would be the fullest in fifteen years, but I guess I've been watching too much Doctor Who because when it rose over the horizon, I wanted to shout: "Hey moon! Can you hear me?" The next thing I thought was, "We should take a family vacation there someday."

The moon is not a feature of our landscape. It's not a decoration in a domed blue ceiling that contains us and composes our little sphere. It's a place. It's another landscape, on which it is possible for human feet to stand. To see the moon is to stand on the deck of a huge ship swinging smoothly through a dark sea and spot an island in the distance -- no, more than that. It's to sight a fellow airman, bound on his own course, and find oneself within hallooing distance. Somewhere in the clouds above the lookout will presently cry, "Ship ahoy!" Nothing but air and space separates us from the great white craft as we sail along. And the face -- the man in the moon, his eyes narrowed in what looks like pain, vainly pursuing the heedless sun all through the night. Those grieving eyes, that wry smile are craters, miles and miles across. Centuries of hopeless courtship have left him fairly bruised and battered, poor man, but he still twirls around us in his earnest game of hide-and-seek, too intent upon his goal to spare us much time of his own.

The sun rises brilliantly somewhere over central Asia. I know because an after-dinner stroll through the garden shows me the moon, stealing somebody else's sunlight and reflecting it dimly back to me, in southwest America. They make a moving pair, bright and cold, day and night, the two lamps that light the human race -- but nothing makes them a couple save our dim perception of them as two ornaments of our world. Ninety-three million miles away, the sun froths with yellow heat, roaring silently to itself. It is massive, appallingly huge, completely beyond our comprehension. The moon, hurtling around our perfectly balanced planet, at most a few hundred thousand miles away, is tiny in comparison. It is lifeless, barren, gray with dust. Dust that, perhaps, still bears the imprint of a human foot. And, of course, an American flag -- probably blown over by now. Here, we are protected by the warm and cozy blanket of atmosphere, but there, you might as well be standing in space, because the moon is naked.

These past few days I've been completely moonstruck. Every night I go outside and goggle at it, and it goggles back at me. My mom found a hobgoblin face in it which she prefers to the classic one, but I like the sad one that squints off into the distance, scanning the sky for the sun. One of the Old Testament prophets -- I think it was Joel -- said that the moon will be turned to blood before the Lord comes, and I've always wondered what that means. I've seen a lunar eclipse turn it rusty brown like dried blood, but wouldn't it be wonderful if that verse meant something completely different? That, perhaps, the moon will one day wake up and come to life? I rather like the image of the moon shaking off his pallor and feeling the blood start in his veins.

Data

Sorry, Liz, I thought I'd already posted this elsewhere.

Anyway -- I'm leaving for Austria on the 27th, at 9:00 pm pacific time. (That's in twenty days, I just realized. Holy cow.) Ich werde bestimmt in Österreich das ganz jahr bleiben, und zurück kommen im Januar 2010. I will indeed remain in Austria for the whole year, and come back in January of 2010. I am not planning to visit home at all until I return, since it's quite a bit of money to fly across the sea. Instead, I hope to use my vacations in doing a bit of traveling on my own -- yikes -- and visiting some friends and relations who will be in the area at different times during my stay.

As for what next year will bring, I only know what vacations Eric and Anita have planned. In February, we will be going on a ski-trip -- during which I suppose I will have to learn how to ski -- and in April we will visit Italy, particularly Mannopello (to see the Holy Face of the aforesaid city), and Rome (for the Easter vigil etc.). In August, they plan to travel to the town of Ars, in France, to visit the tomb of St. John Vianney. Also, there's a youth festival in Medjugorje, which I believe is in Bosnia, and apparently I will have an opportunity to attend that as well. So I'll have plenty to keep me busy. :-)

Right now I'm kind of stressing out, despite everyone's best efforts, including my own. I finally just ordered a coat and some boots from Lands' End today, because I was so sick of indecision. They will probably be fine. Now I've just got to get my brain together and figure out what I still need to buy. There's so much banging around in my head right now -- it's hard to separate out what I really NEED, and what I just want for the comfort of feeling "pulled together". Part of the reason I'm hyper about being prepared is that deep down I'm scared to shop in Austrian stores. But I'll have to get used to it, so I might as well leave a few things out on purpose, heh.

Oh, one thing about communication -- if you have a webcam, and download Skype, we can video chat beautifully (so I hear). Granted, it will have to be at odd hours, but it would be fun! Otherwise, this blog and my email (and maybe facebook) will be the best places to get a hold of me. I'm hoping to post fairly regularly and not leave you all in the dark, but I will probably be awfully busy, so don't expect too much.

Now, I've got to get to bed.

(Music recommendation for today: The Waybacks are pretty cool. I guess they count as "newgrass", and they have their weirder moments, but I LOVE their rendition of The Witch of the Westmoreland. It's an awesome ballad anyway, even if it is a bit dodgy at the end. Haha.)

I've decided to give up reading fiction for Advent. Right now I'm downloading an audible history of Rome to my iTunes in order to implement this resolution. ;)

Music recommendation for today: thought Bob Dylan couldn't actually sing? Listen to his Nashville Skyline album. He's got a really neat voice. It's a great CD -- I used to listen to it practically every day up at TAC. Special treat: Johnny Cash joins him on the first number (the Girl From the North Country).

If I really had something to say, I'd be able to find my own voice to say it with, and not borrow everyone else's. I remember hearing a quotation of Goethe's somewhere, that "there must be a man behind the sentence". There was more, but that's what stuck in my head. It means such a tangle of complicated things to me that I have a difficult time even beginning to articulate them. Of course it means you must be sincere -- but it means far more than that. It's about being a whole person. It's about finding the part of the Truth that quickens your soul and giving it to the world in as many beautiful ways as possible.

It means you have to find meaning in your own life before you can ever hope to give meaning to other people's.

*edit* Thought of a good way to describe it. I feel about writing the way a woman feels who really wants to have children, but hasn't found the right man yet. I want it mainly for the "perks" -- the exultant feeling that attends the strong, steady flow of words from mind to paper, the pride of creating something beautiful -- because until you reach the specific point in your life when such a vocation could come to fruition and cease to be merely an abstract longing, you can't want it for completely the right reasons. To truly want it for the right reasons (which means to appreciate it for what it IS) you must have already found your message, because part and parcel of the desire to write is the desire to communicate something important. Otherwise it's useless, because words without communication are nonsense.

Still sick...

...and nothing really going on, except I am allowed a minuscule amount of luggage on my flight, so I'm going to have to find a cheap way to mail stuff to Austria ahead of time. And I might need a transit visa for switching planes in Munich, which is more annoying paperwork. I'm telling myself it's fun. Except for my cold making me demotivated about life, I'm really rarin' to get out of the States and get started.

Meanwhile... one of my favorite love songs, as heard on the album Leaving Friday Harbour (Battlefield Band). You might recognize a line or two from the quote on my last blog. It's really a great album; you should look it up. That's my music recommendation for today (there will be more to come).

The Pleasure Will Be Mine

"If ye come wi' me tae Fintry,"
Willie says tae Caroline,
"I would hae a happy heart."
"The pleasure will be mine," she says,
"The pleasure will be mine."

The rain was falling down sae hard,
The drains were overflowing --
Ye'd almost think the flood was coming on.
So they huddled in the corner,
Tryin' to keep out all the water,
And he told her all the things he had in mind.

(chorus)

"The papers say the workforce
will be laid off after Christmas,
There's a downturn in the business, so they say.
I'll no' sit about here waitin'
On some company's decision,
So on Friday I'll be lifting my last pay."

"We'll pack our bags an' leave this place,
An' tak the road tae Fintry,
For the country air's as sweet as guid red wine.
And when summertime comes round again,
And corn is ripe for gatherin',
We'll find out if my notion's right or wrong."

They walked hand in hand, and wandered down
Beside the sleepy river,
Where the city sounds grew distant in their ears.
The moonbeams in the water
Glinted silver as he kissed her,
And the rumble of the city disappeared.