Think About It, There Must Be a Higher Love

I just have to say that the funeral speech (made by a HOLOGRAM of the ever-amazing, Fiona Shaw) at the end of Andor’s season 1 finale nearly stirred me on my feet. My heart was RACING!

“But we were sleeping. I’ve been sleeping. And I’ve been turning away from the truth I wanted not to face. There is a wound that won’t heal at the center of the galaxy. There is a darkness reaching like rust into everything around us. We let it grow, and now it’s here. It’s here, and it’s not visiting anymore. It wants to stay. The Empire is a disease that thrives in darkness, it is never more alive than when we sleep. It’s easy for the dead to tell you to fight, and maybe it’s true, maybe fighting is useless. Perhaps it’s too late. But I’ll tell you this… If I could do it again, I’d wake up early and be fighting these b*stards… from the start. Fight the Empire!”

I have thought of this speech for hours, days, and now over a week, since I saw the episode only ONCE, because that’s all it takes now. I thought of this speech while looking for a tiny horse this morning. You see, yesterday was Advent Calendar Day in our house, which is officially tied with the day after Daylight Savings as my favorite unofficial holiday. It’s a big deal in our house, even though it can be little things. Tiny chocolate, robot parts, little love notes, salmon dog treats. You name it and we’re gifting it. This year was full of surprises because Cassidy and Des got ME (the Advent Calendar QUEEN) a yummy advent calendar from IKEA. And the kids made a gorgeous one out of leftover Halloween candy and an empty felt advent calendar hanging. It even has a little “key” with designated numbers and days based on candy preference. I’ll have to show you:

For Scarlet, I bought an empty celestial-themed box and filled each door (window?) with at least one tiny animal and at least one set of Christmas earrings. And there are other surprises too, like non-Christmas earrings, and more than one tiny animal, and maybe some necklaces too! What fun, except that Rider woke up right before Scarlet had to go to school and he had some sort of raging tantrum, maybe about only opening one piece of chocolate a day? So somewhere in the mix of him yelling and throwing his new Disney Funko Mickey Mouse (spoiler) across the floor, Scarlet lost a tiny animal – a black horse. Luckily it’s replaceable, but I spent part of the early morning fretting about this tiny horse and Scarlet’s “potential” sadness. I looked everywhere, and eventually gave up and ordered a new one. Meanwhile, she was at school and then came home bouncing around and having thought of 17,000 things since the tiny horse. She was fine!

The universe contracts and expands, as our worlds grow large and small. I try to find meaning in it all. Once I thought every little thing mattered, and then I wondered if anything mattered at all. Now I’m somewhere in the middle, swinging wildly towards deep meaning in many things. I’m not “bad” at housework, and in fact can be very good at many things when I’m motivated. I have a little “dust if you must” viewpoint, but also lack the ability to tackle small tasks when everyone needs me at once for the little/big things. I tackle tiny tasks during baby naps or baby distractions. 10 folded shirts here; 15 dishes there. I try to tackle tiny tasks rather than worrying about things I can’t possibly get to today. Maybe looking for a tiny horse just allows me extra space to clear the clutter of the kitchen counter, and thus, clear the building clutter of my mind.

You see, I nearly got up early today to write this dang post – trying to fit all the little things into one probably too big thing to tell you, what you already know. Dust if you must, but kiss or you’ll miss. It’s not lost on me that I’m getting a pretty major do-over and second chance. Not that I messed up the first time, as they’re still young (enough) to need me and they do have a deep appreciation for life and its people. I can see where I went wrong. Working too much. Prioritizing the wrong things; not the things that matter the most. Looking over shoulders and not showing love enough, as deep, as wide, as vast. It’s infinite and terrifying, but filled with all the right stars and clouds in all the right places. Perhaps it’s too late, but I don’t think so. And I’ll tell you this: If I could do it again, I’d wake up earlier for extra snuggles, and go to bed later for extra embraces. I’d fill in my words in the empty spaces of the day and night, and fill love spaces like an advent calendar. One by one and two by two. Let it be, perfectly and imperfectly, folding and unfolding.