Well! Here we are, safely arrived on the other side of the holidays. How fine is that! Congratulations to us all!
I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a nice chunk of the ordinary now. You know, days where all you gotta think about is doing the job before you. Maybe even throw in a slice of routine, just to smooth things out. It sounds comforting somehow, doesn’t it?
Maybe it’s the season. Here we stand, seriously staring into a brand new year, wondering what it could possibly bring. Am I prepared? (Are we ever?)
It never unfolds the way you imagined it would. Especially these days. The best you can do is the best you can do. And it’s always good enough. And there’s always room for better.
I started a new project. I’d been asking for it, and when it finally got here, I had to jump on it. I’m calling it “100 Bottles of Hours on the Wall.” It’s a 100-Day Challenge that simply appeared in my awareness one day, spotlights shining on it, confetti floating in the air. What it boils down to is my commitment to compose a daily note here for the next 100 days. Just for the fun of it To see where it takes me.
I couldn’t wait for the New Year. I started it a week ago. Check it out. Let me know what you think.
But that isn’t what I really wanted to tell you about today. I wanted to share my personal New Year ritual.
A few minutes before midnight on New Year’s Eve, I pull on my winter boots and jacket and go outdoors. This year the sky is overcast, a faint glow appearing on the northern horizon. To the east I see fog illuminated by the headlights of a car climbing the hill around the curve over there. Its purr is all I hear.
I send good wishes to my local community, and outward from there, and farther out ‘til my wishes circle the globe. I thank the spruces towering over my head for their constant companionship and wish them well. I send a wordless song from the center of my heart to the Great Yes, waiting.
Suddenly, the bangs and pops and claps of shotguns, pistols, and rifles wash down the hills from every direction. Wow! Was that a canon? Dogs vacationing at the kennel down the road yip and howl. Car horns bleat from somewhere across the creek by the old school.
It’s here. 2022.
We can’t help ourselves. However we mark it, all over the world, we all breathe in its hope.
Isn’t that something?
Take a big chunk of that hope and tuck it in your pocket, hey?
Happy New Year.
Warmly,
Susan