I’ve been writing a series of articles, three so far, on peace cultures for a newsletter at my church. These cultures, twenty four in all, are covered in a website called Peaceful Societies, www.peacefulsocieties.com. These are existing societies that are peaceful, that is, they have little or no conflict within their societies and avoid conflict with other people. This is unusual in the world today. There is a great longing for peace in this world and yet it remains illusive. For that reason I thought it would be worthwhile to find out how these peaceful societies manage to exist and capture that peace. What characteristics do they have that other non-peaceful societies lack?

In comparing these peaceful societies, one with the other, I found a considerable range of difference, indicating that there are a number of ways to achieve peace. Yet there are enough that is common to all of them to make it possible to draw some tentative conclusions. When I have finished the articles—about three to go, I estimate—I hope to be able to characterize what makes a typical peaceful society. Then comes another question: does the average nation of today really want to be peaceful?

The disturbing fact that comes to light in the process of reading about the societies of the website is that all of them are looked down upon by their neighbors. Most of them are small, simple cultures existing with few possessions. They are not the ideal of any modern society and their peaceful existence is not enough to interest any modern society in joining them. The modern society regards other things as being of greater importance.

Which leads to a question: despite all our posturing about wanting peace, are we, a modern society, that interested in peaceful living? We say we are but if we had peace, would we want to maintain it? A clue to the answer is the fact that many peaceful societies in the world have been destroyed by more advanced societies or nations that considered the possession of land and the pursuit of riches more important than peace. Most of the time, the more advanced civilization was so interested in selfish pursuits that it didn’t even bother to question what it was it was destroying or even admit that it was doing so. Evidence exists of the fact that such advanced nations still operate in that fashion, our nation included.

We had a good snow last week, a good heavy fall that stayed around due to the cold weather. It was more like ones I remember as a boy. But they came earlier then. In November we would have snows that would provide sledding for many days and snows like that would continue to fall periodically through all the winter months. I loved those snows back then.

I remember one snow of long ago that piled up and came to stay. The wild creatures of the field took shelter wherever they could. Pheasants came at night to roost beneath the low branches of the hemlocks that lined our drive. As I walked down the lane to the school bus stop in the morning and passed close to their place of cover, they would run across the ice-crusted snow and take flight. I would stand and watch as twenty two or twenty three birds repeated that maneuver, one after the other. It was rare to see them in such numbers and so close to our house.

The pheasants are gone from this area now and it seems the snows are gone as well. The only things I have are the memories of them. But to tell the truth, the older I get it seems the less I miss them. I don’t stand up against the cold as well as I used to and it’s a lot harder for me to get around in the winter months. I have a friend who claims to love winter and snow. She laments the fact that the snows do not fall more frequently and in greater quantity. I asked her about that just the other day. “Why do you love winter so?” I asked. In answer she told me how nice it was to curl up by a window with a warm blanket, a bowl of hot soup, a loaf of crusty bread and with classical music on a stereo to watch the snow fall while writing poetry.

I like that sort of thing, too, but I don’t really call that liking winter.

I’ve discovered that nighttime is the best time for the internet, best meaning when it is fastest and least plagued with bugs. I discovered that by accident, caused by the times (frequent) when I wake up with ideas that I feel I have to get up and work with. That usually occurs around three or four o’clock in the morning. Most days my little internet setup is very speedy at that time—downloads rapid, attachments easily loaded, emails off quickly.

Why is that?

I’m not sure, but I have a suspicion as to the reason. It’s very simple—there are fewer people using the internet at that hour of the day and therefore things flow more smoothly. It’s rather like driving on the parkway at that same time of day rather than at the height of rush hour. That’s a very unscientific theory and I’m sure there are other factors that have a part in the matter, atmospheric conditions being an obvious component, but I think it’s pretty solid as a theory.

Actually, I am rather amazed as to how well the internet works at any hour. Imagine the thousands—perhaps millions of transmissions that are being processed at any given time—words, photos, music, jokes—some of them even worth while. And, of course, advertising. Where would we be without that?

Anyway, I find my internet works better at three or four o’clock in the morning rather than during regular business hours. There’s only one drawback and that is my ability to be awake, up and working with any consistency at that hour. Oh. Well. I suppose there are a few minor drawbacks to anything.

Last night was Twelfth Night and I took down my Christmas tree. It was rather sad to do that. I enjoyed Christmas very much this year. There wasn’t any special reason for that. I didn’t do anything special this year, didn’t go any special place, didn’t go out for dinner—but Christmas was still special. It felt different.

That special feeling caused me to put the tree up early this year—on the last day of November. I turned the tree lights on every evening in December and enjoyed them being on. How can I explain this new attitude? I suppose it began with the change in my anti-war sentiments and that began long before the Christmas season. For years I have been against violence as a means of solving problems, but I never did much demonstrating against war. That didn’t seem quite right either. Recently, I’ve begun to have more understanding about that. The understanding stems from Mother Theresa’s statement about anti-war demonstrations. She is quoted as saying: I was once asked why I don't participate in anti-war demonstrations. I said that I will never do that, but as soon as you have a pro-peace rally, I'll be there.

In other words, in an anti war demonstration, both sides of the issue, pro-war and anti-war, are putting emphasis on the same thing—war. In that way, energy is placed on war. Much the same thing happens in the ongoing debate about gun control. Being pro-gun control or anti-gun control and being active on either side focuses energy on guns. The same can be said for other issues—drugs, for instance.

This year, my attitude regarding Christmas changed. Instead of concentrating on the things I didn’t like about the way we celebrate Christmas, I paid attention to the things I did like and enjoyed myself. I put decorations on the tree and added some new things to them. I brought in some good things to eat and experimented in creating a few others. I enjoyed the weather. I enjoyed the days. i enjoyed people. I enjoyed the peace, something we all claim to look for in the season of Christmas and so seldom achieve.

Looking back on the season from the advantage of retrospect, I think I’ve found a formula for an enjoyable Christmas. Maybe it’s a little more than that; maybe it’s a formula for a more enjoyable life.

This is the last day of December, the last of 2012 and we are still here. Not so surprising. There have been many predictions of the end of the world. Each one has come and gone with no particular change except that many of them have made money for some people and have caused a lot of others a great deal of mental anguish. Others are simply amusing.

Often, practical considerations prevent a total belief in end of the world prophesies. When I was in college in the late fifties, there was a belief that the world would end shortly. The prediction had been made by someone with many followers and was widely publicized. I was dating a girl (who would later become my wife) who had a curious interest in the event. The prediction was very specific. The world was to end at exactly 10:14 AM on October 23^rd, or something like that. As the date came closer, Mariellen talked more about it. Finally the day dawned and the fateful hour came and passed. I knew Mariellen’s schedule and waited for her as she came from class. “Well?” I asked her as she approached. “Well what?” she answered, genuinely at a loss as to what I meant. “It’s past 10:14 and the world didn’t end,” I reminded her. “Oh my gosh,” she exclaimed, “I had a Spanish test and forgot all about it.”

But all that is in the past. This year is different. At least I think so. It feels different. It’s difficult to explain. There’s a presence of something lighter. It might be called hope. That’s odd in view of our nation’s current fiscal trauma and the miscellaneous troubles present in the world. Perhaps that change in things is what the Mayan calendar predicted and what I am experiencing. Of course it might be just me, my own personal attitude that has taken an upswing for some unexplainable reason. But that’s the way I feel and it’s probably not a bad attitude to have for the start of the new year. So Happy New Year to you all. We survived. Now, let us survive well.

This is Christmas Eve. There is something very warm and magical about that. In the past I’ve written quite a bit about all the things I find to be objectionable about the holiday of Christmas, the fact that there is more emphasis on the business aspect of it than the peace and love that it should inspire. This year is different somehow. It’s not that I’ve changed my mind about the commercialism. I guess it’s my perspective on the matter. That is it. It just occurred to me as I write this piece. That explains my putting up the Christmas tree early, my feeling good, my warm feelings toward others.

I am tempted to go on writing to explain my feelings about this in more detail, both to you and to me, but I feel that is totally unnecessary. I’ll leave that for another time. A Christmas wish should be very brief and to the point. I’ll simply repeat that there is something very warm and magical about Christmas and despite all the hype and commercialism that has crept into the holiday over the years, that magic remains.

So—have a Merry Christmas and a Very Happy New Year. All of us. We all deserve it.

I didn’t post anything on this blog last week. I’ve been working on writing a novel and not making too much progress lately. There have been too many things interfering. Last week I got a chance to work on it rather steadily and I just didn’t want to stop to do anything else—therefore my not posting on the blog. The novel was going well and I didn’t want to interfere with that. I hope to have the first draft done by the first of the year or shortly thereafter.

Drafts is the correct term to be used when referring to the stages of writing through which a novel goes—draft 1, 2, 3, etc. . . . final (or is it?).  Lately, I’ve been thinking that layers is more descriptive of the process. It’s rather similar to the way one does a painting, laying out a base of some sort, sometimes sketching out the entire work, or sometimes just starting, then going over with subsequent changes, adding this, removing or overpainting that, and all the while facing the possibility of losing the spontaneity of the work.

In the movie, Finding Forester, an author is giving a young writer advice on writing. Don’t think in setting down the first draft, the young man is told. The time for thinking will come later. I think that’s pretty much the way it is. The first draft or layer comes from inspiration—one’s muse. Subsequent drafts or layers are the place for correcting or refining. Then comes the problem of knowing when to quit. When is a work ‘finished’? When you’re satisfied with it? Does that ever happen?

Much on the same subject, I was once asked which of my pieces of writing is my favorite. The answer to that is easy: it’s the one I’m working on. After that comes another one, another favorite—for a while, anyway.