On contextualizing "March of the Penguins"

around the end of december in the northern hemisphere is winter, often cold and sometimes dark and endless. but in the frozen south, it never really finishes, just thaws a bit and lets the icicles droop a bit to allow the soppy places for killer whales and seals to frolic together in typical arm-in-arm fashion. at the same time, the emperor penguins are pretty-much through a year-long process of raising their little furry babies. they, mother and father both shed their happy swimming grounds, trading egg-keeping posts off an on to gather food and stretch a bit. it is cold, especially in the period of may-august, bitterly so. i suppose we could say that for us, the processing of a year, not a yearling could be bitter at times, for some - never ceases to be so.

we work, study, love, unlove, break and heal, or focus fastidiously on only one of those. a year can be like it is for the penguins, lost when our dreams like babies freeze and crack from the winter; we lose money or gain too much. or we might even gain too many friends and consequently, a bigger head (which is harder to keep warm in the cold winds). but like it or not, we too like those babies foster not only the time-space of a year, but also our own lives. in "the march of the penguins", the coldest parts of the year were spanned by the group as they huddles together, each sharing time to be in the protective and warm middle and likewise, each sharing the outer rim where sometimes the cold became too much and some faltered.

can that be illustrative of the need we have as humans for eachother? it can and in the right company that need can be both nurturing and fulfilling to fill. just seconds before "the countdown" on tv an estimated 1 million people gathered in new york, usa to watch a ball drop a total of what from their vantage positions looked like the span of a fingernail - and to be rained on by streamers and frozen breath crystals. they each had their own voices, unique in that moment as it was unrehearsed and unadultered rejoicing. it is only a ball, but as it drops it must be picked back up again like the egg passed from mother to father, in danger of being neglected too long. in this new year, do not neglect friends, family and other loved ones but huddle together and let your voice be heard just as you listen intently to others. if you need help, ask. if you see a need, don't be shy nor too proud to lend a hand, a tissue, or a prayer.

in that instance when you pick up the ball dropped from the year before, take a minute to look at the stars and in that moment, i pray that all the brightness and fragility of the heavens will illuminate your soul and ignite your passions for a newborn year. god bless