this year.
this year...
man, it's been beautiful, it's been surprising, but it's also been brutal. sometimes incredibly, suddenly brutal.
with complete disregard of the futility of my efforts, i usually try to hold on to time, particularly the last measures of the year. starting sometime early november, i can be found dragging my feet, maybe adding some low-grade panic to the mix, hoping to slow things down, hoping to do that one thing that will make the previous ten or eleven months seem Productive and Meaningful.
but this year is different and i find myself almost leaning into the the passing, like a runner into the finish line ribbon, waiting eagerly to cross the threshold of the year and start the next adventures i can already feel moving toward me.
these final days of 2016 i am away from my life and my city in order to slow down, not work, enjoy things at a 3 year old's pace while making good food for (lots of) good people and celebrating one of the most amazing women in my life. then i have set side the first days of 2017 to sequester myself even farther away, giving myself the gift of time and space to work on a long over due personal/creative project, one that i ache to finish. i will start the year off running forward (figuratively and literally -- i have this new pair of shoes guaranteed to launch you forward faster they are *that* bright).
but even with all this movement and focus onward i find myself intensely grateful for the year that has been, brutalities and all. 2016 ripped something from me, almost as soon as it started, and continued to tear every last thread from me, all the while gently and consistently building me up more wholly and beautifully than i've ever been before. i have seen myself in a way i never have before – through the mirrors new faces have presented for me, through the camera lens i have always been shy of, and from an ever-analyzing, ever-evolving curiosity of self that i cannot get away from (even when i want to).
so thank you, 2016, thank you so much. i am forever grateful for the gems you left behind: a hug to end all hugs, one of the best stories of my life (full of surprises and humor and meaning and joy), a portrait session to bring me into my body and looking out at the world like i never have before, one of my favorite concerts yet (radiohead mexico city, night 2), and new friends, new faces, and always and forever new places. oh, and my first tattoo.
i am also grateful for the catalyst to growth that heartbreak brought me, the compassion and strength required to hold a baby's broken body in my hands so i could give the only gift i had to his grieving parents, and the many, many people that have surfaced from all parts of my life to hold me close in the wake of that experience.
so this brings me to the last, but certainly not least: the political climate of our country and the world at large. i have so many feelings, and few articulate thoughts, but to anyone reading, keep love and freedom and equality moving forward. speak/burn/live by light, justice and kindness. i will always happily send you a postcard reminder that that you are not alone, the majority is with us and love will prevail. if you need some brightness in the coming days, just send me your address. seriously. i don't care if we have never met or never will. i will include you in my postcard joy. (you are exactly who i want to include.)
in closing, i'll give you a poem i shared for my new year's card a few years back that so elegantly captures of the bittersweetness of this time of year that has always been meaningful to me.
with love to you and yours,
---
Lines written in the days of growing darkness
--by Mary Oliver
Every year we have been
witness to it: how the
world descends
into a rich mash, in order that
it may resume.
And therefore
who would cry out
to the petals on the ground
to stay,
knowing as we must,
how the vivacity of what was is married
to the vitality of what will be?
I don't say
it's easy, but
what else will do
if the love one claims to have for the world
be true?
So let us go on, cheerfully enough,
this and every crisping day,
though the sun be swinging east,
and the ponds be cold and black,
and the sweets of the year be doomed.
Every year we have been
witness to it: how the
world descends
into a rich mash, in order that
it may resume.
And therefore
who would cry out
to the petals on the ground
to stay,
knowing as we must,
how the vivacity of what was is married
to the vitality of what will be?
I don't say
it's easy, but
what else will do
if the love one claims to have for the world
be true?
So let us go on, cheerfully enough,
this and every crisping day,
though the sun be swinging east,
and the ponds be cold and black,
and the sweets of the year be doomed.
---
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