The winter darkness of a newborn year

Posted on Dec 31, 2015 in Blog

I am tempted, sitting here on the tails of an old year, inching toward the new, to say good riddance to 2015. I am so ready to be done with this year–so ready to call it over, to put it behind me, to forget. There are so many things about the past 365 days that I wish I could do away with, or obliterate completely. I wish I hadn’t done x and y and z. I wish I could have been braver. I wish I could have been more vocal about what I wanted when it mattered, I wish I could have talked myself out of settling for so little–in so many things, in so many ways.

I wish I could have talked myself out of despair, or paid enough attention to avoid despair altogether.

But then, reflecting on couldas and wouldas and shouldas only gets you so far, right? This is what people tell you. At a certain point there are only two things left to do: you let go and sink, or you hang the heck on and bend your head into the waves.

I almost let go. Sometimes I still think about letting go, although those thoughts are mostly behind me now, thank goodness.

There were wonderful moments too, though, don’t get me wrong. I did a handy reflection exercise tonight, courtesy of my local newspaper (and the Internet), and managed to break the year down into some of the wonderful things that happened each month. There were many things to smile about. Flowers that grew even under the darkest of skies.

But I am ready for the sunshine now. Manic, happy sunshine. Bright lights and glimmered days and so many things thrown at the wall–let’s just see what sticks, shall we?–and more writing out into the world (shout out to Beth Gilstrap, whose tweet about rejections has me all fired up. Work hard. Submit more. Yes. Yes), and dreams again, so many big dreams, so many ideas.

And trips away and time overseas again and more cello and violin again and maybe, this year, I will finally sit down and learn to play the Scherzo.

Also, maybe I’ll learn German. And meet Cheryl Strayed and Liz Gilbert. Maybe that.

2016, you are going to be a good year. I can see it in your shadows. I can feel it in my bones.

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