They say all these things about winter.That it’s about Stillness.Cold.The moment before.Before everything changes, finally BlossomsBut why do I keep feeling likeThere’s something else buried beneath all the wet Something olderNot just seasonal But beyond timeThat if I can just manage to see pastAll the dazzling whiteI’ll find something preciousSomething long misplacedBut maybeThat’s just my human desire to digA dog lost on an old scentHungry for the boneMy animal brain whimpering in so many words:More.Surely there must be more.

Welcome to The ALIVE hour.

Illustration: Shannon ColonStory: Steve Nelson. Music: Chloe Riley

Things found in real life

* You, sending me mail back. A more beautiful wreath there ne’er was:

* These Christmas postcards, written at the turn of the 20th century, to August Claussen and his family:

Dear Sister + Brother! —

Wishing you a Merry Xmas + A Happy New Year. Did not keep my promise about writing & have the La Grippe and have been home ever since Friday morn and do not feel much better now. Good-Bye

Amanda

A happy Xmas greeting to all

Dear Gus.

You missed it Sun. I was out hunting and got 7 rabbits in 2 hours with 9 shells how’s that for high. Come whenever you can and give Lizzie and Arthur Best Love from me.

Grover

Things found on the internet

* This post (also from Steve Nelson) on facing the darkness:

My fear was mostly, if not entirely, in my own mind, of my own creation. The woods, night or day, if paid the proper respect, was benign. And come evening, particularly, when the shadows closed and the world shrank, it was actually comforting, intimate. I became at home in the dark.

* These snippets of text from here, here, and here:

And it was these—the transitions, the secret places between the steps—that seemed to give the dancing its meaning.

There’s a widespread need to reconnect to all the things that make life worth living, and what better moment than now? What better way than with a feast?

Yet the song ends not with the word “forever” but with a repetition of the word “Sunday.” By this point in the show, the audience understands that an ordinary Sunday can become a forever, through inspiration, other people, and work.

* Mary Oliver’s “The Rabbit,” posted by my friend Katie:

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