Will the new year come with love and warmth and joy? Will the bells sound of pleasure? Will it bring with it, good cheer and peacefulness? Maybe it’s too soon to tell.
Better to try for attention and brighter mornings. Tether the distraction to the wall. Sing more, learn the jitterbug, walk slower through the day. Purposely slow it down.
Honestly, though, it’s just too soon to tell.
The secret hush of the eve falls. And like Janus, we see both years for the shortest of times. While noting the past and the future we, ofcourse, miss right now.
What did we learn? What did we find out more about? How were we kinder and more loving? What did we give our attention to, and what filled us with excitement and delight?
Maybe just do more of that?
When there’s a fork in the road, and we have to choose which path to take, how do we discern better? Should we take the easy road, with the daisies and the smiling cow? Or should we, instead, choose the harsher way, where the dragons spill out loss, sorrow and evil from their noses, and rancid pain from inside of their mouths? There’s a better story in the poorer choice, and a stronger lesson to be learned.
What to do if this year, is surprisingly sadder even than last year? Yes, pain. They said, “pain, my dear is a part of it” and it seems to be quite central. I’m afraid.
So it comes: another year of life. Of this mystery and magic and gravity. All that we are, were and will be, sits for a moment in quiet stillness. Mistakes and sins, accolades and prideful times, sleep and starlight.
Back straight, eyes forward. Attention. Love and kindness.
Good luck everyone, good luck!
Shorter than me 