A Week Between Years

I stepped with both feet into December.

I coaxed my introverted self to a flurry of holiday parties. I enjoyed them! I had special rendezvous with each main character of my 2022. We recalled the arc of it. We expressed gratitude for its fruits and each other. On 12/21 I dressed in gauzy black and lit a candle. Whenever I wasn't in a hot yoga class, I surrounded myself with space heaters. And in the final week I retreated into the long night of it all. After a year of serving in so many ways, I brought my attention back to myself. Gathered my scattered bits. Even indulged in the opportunity to pursue some me projects. One you have seen: My pretty new web site! Another, an ebook about songwriting, is available soon!

So yes, as never before, I participated in the December of it all. 

I loved me some December.

Whew, and am I ever relieved it's over! To let something be an ending is to let it be a reckoning. I have been reckoned!

And now here we are: January! I've got to say, as much as I'm done with December, I'm not ready for January. Petition for a week between years.

But I think my whole "It's not January!" vibe is precisely what January, and perhaps even 2023, holds for me. I find myself on a strict no resolution diet. Even intentions, bless their intentional little souls, feel a bit oppressive. Hegemonic, as we used to say in Anthropology 101. 

What I am willing to do is look around my inner and outer terrain. Catalog what's happening. Smile at the parts I love. Turn up their volume.

Meaning: Do less more deeply. Hold every outing in breezy peace. With all respect to the high noon of "yes," I poise to explore my sacred "no."

Where, like the long nights of winter, the most magical candles are lit.

WIth love,

Rachel