Change at the door

The cold has crept through my bones and no longer feels like a stranger bumping into me as I walk out the door. It's twenty degrees and my coat is open. I start to wonder why I bother with the down jacket. Gloves? Those are for the single digits.

Stepping through what is technically known as "yick" forces me to shoe gaze as I pick my way down the sidewalk. I remember this is a cursed gesture to all those insisting we don't raise our eyes and allow some inspiration in more often. So, I look up. Sky like a marble quarry, urban world like a grey canyon, every thing and everyone stiffened in the cold and encumbered by snow and clothing to protect from snow. So this is January and we choose to live with it and manage to not jump clean out of our skins or move south once and for all. I joke with coworkers in Atlanta that this is the subtle fee we pay for living in the best city in the world.

January. Comes from "Janus", a figure guarding the doorway; the two faced god who looks both ways. And in this passage we do need some guard, some guidance. We are split wholly over the mistakes and culpability of what was, the anxiety and hope for what will be, leaving only a strange and rootless excitement over now.

I listened to Bush give his final press conference and felt a bit bad for him. If he'd been elected in a less complicated time, say, 1892, he might have drifted into history as one of our less controversial presidents. If he had managed to surround himself with people of a more trustworthy and less power-hungry caliber, he might have done fine - slipping into history as a name fifth graders must memorize on a list. He's not a bad man at all. I'm sure everyone of us could find in him a friend were we to sit down and chat. But, at the turn of the twentieth century, America didn't need a buddy. It needed a miracle. And now he's leaving, taking his mixed record with him and leaving the "yick" behind. There really are people on the planet who are better off for George W. Bush having stepped up to the plate and found a way to do what is right on occasion. But no one will forget his surprising role as the shoe target.

On Bush's heels, history sweeps into the oval office. The wind doesn't get me much but this, just thinking of it still gives me a chill. I still worry that an alternate universe where the election turned out differently will push forward into my experience. But no, this is real, it's safe to open my eyes and believe, for once, that the dream of american freedom is a reality. For a minute we are launched beyond the reach of gravity. We step from the nasty known onto a sweet dream of future. And in that doorway lies the danger. It is a dangerous moment where we surpass the ability to be defined with words because we will step through the other side changed. But into what only heaven knows.

And this is why our gate needs a guard, a Janus, someone to look both ways while we forget ourselves for a minute and step out into blinding light or gusting wind. Someone to call our names and help us to find a road back home through fear and doubt, through hope and change.