No Resolutions

I never make them. New Year Resolutions. It only creates unnecessary stress, a perceived glowering, like something breathing down my neck kind of presence I don’t care to invite. Like something waiting and watching for me to back-slide into whatever failure-type of behavior I am attempting to shed; smugly eyeing up my virtuous promises and entreaties while calling for wagers.

And yet.

There is something to be said about re-assessing ones path, choices, habits and behavior. And maybe there is a certain combined power when this is done annually en masse, joining in with all the other hopeful pledges of positive life changing vibes ringing out around the globe. Somehow maybe the odds to bring desired change about are better when we get swept into that current of optimism.

Because I think it’s safe to say every New Year’s Eve pretty much everybody is somewhat optimistic for the year ahead. We surround ourselves with friends, family or even strangers and shout and sing for the promise of a new beginning. We all want good things to happen in our lives. We want to feel we will do this or that better, be better, do more of what makes us happy, do more for others. Even if we don’t say it out loud.

Don’t we secretly feel that we are stepping up to a newly drawn starting line on the first of January, that the new years road we see before us is clear and open, obstacles yet unseen?

There is certainly power in group intention, benevolent or dangerous, we see it enacted all the time. A great channelling of energy. So when the climate is positive, such as in happy celebrations that involve thousands together, we are all invited to ride that positive wave and perhaps benefit. At the closing in of midnight on the last night of December we bond even for the briefest of moments. Whether we state it or not it feels like a fresh start at something.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reflection

fullsizeoutput_1757So we soon close another year. It has been one hell of a time, and I wish that meant it had been so great, but this isn’t the case. There feels to be a shredded wake stretching out behind me.

Seeing 2016 close means leaving the year that I was last in the company of my brother, the year I was with him, talking to him, spending time with him, before dying of cancer. He won’t be in this new year.

It has been a year rife with friends passing in early mid-life from cancers, a co-worker who died in her sleep with what was thought to be a simple virus, another young chef co-worker suffering a coronary, spending a month in a coma and now re-learning how to make toast. His memory of his small children nearly wiped out. Another musician friend struck with the same type of attack while working in Edinburgh.

It was a year of watching and being with my mom in the hospital for three months go through some terrible heart wrenching episodes, of moving her out of her own place of independence, then moving her twice more and finally into a full care facility.

Then the seemingly endless string of beloved celebrities that left us.

I seem to recall a feeling of trepidation on the threshold of 2016, something ominous about to happen. It seems my premonitions were correct. As a final salty rub in the wound, the looming political horizon.

I am not a doomsday, pessimistic personality. I don’t look for tragedy or drama. Yet there is no mistake the reality of the last 12 months. These events happened and it was painful. And I have no desire to gloss over. To see the cheery side. It was a dark year.

So I am reflecting, which is what we do at this time, but not without also offering gratitude. And I do. But I can’t yet put into words what for.

For witnessing the strength of the spirit in all who were struck down and in those left standing whose hearts were pierced? For presence? Yes I think so, I think that comes close. Maybe sometimes presence is enough. Mind-full presence.

So I am embracing the hardship of 2016 as a mother tightly holds a fitful angry child until the fight leaves him. Then releasing with unconditional love and hope for a brilliant new sunrise.