This final week of 2017 I have unplugged from Facebook to the extent that I am, in three day’s time, remarkably happier and more unburdened than I have been in five years. Maybe more. The planet continues to have hope and disaster hand-in-hand, but I don’t have to read or know about every single detail worldwide, nor do I feel the overwhelm of responsibility and obligation that “social” media, literally, feeds. I am fed up with “social” media, which becomes more and more anti-social and numbing every day. I am better, more useful, in real life with real people and immediate, local problems to salve and solve. Not that I am any great heroine, but I do my best work right here: at home.
The Messenger still pings but now I take comfortable time responding, not jumping to reply as though every message were on fire and my life depended upon immediacy. It’s nice. It’s at MY pace and convenience. And, it’s real.
Running through the months, April stands out as when we purchased our Together home after almost four years of long-distance partnering and challenges inherent in such an endeavor. I must have been crazy, frankly. So must have he. And yet, our crazy (and weird) seems to get along with the other’s and that doesn’t happen every day. In August, the book cover became a reality and in October, the finished product was in-hand. I am still beaming and high on gratitude. More projects are in the pipeline. I can feel them approaching and am very excited for the opportunities to grow and show my work.
Two years ago this evening, I penned the following and am grateful for a brain that thought to save the words. Now seems a good time to share.
Happy and Healthy New Year to you and yours. Thanks for reading along. ox
31 December 2015
Long silver hair streaked with the last moonlight
she gently steps from her celestial footwear
Barefoot she exhales and lets her heavy
calendared gown 364 days
ago as light as gossamer
fall around strong tired feet
Quietly peaceful soul and countenance wise
she walks waters
rhythm to the turning of the ancient wheel
A shooting star, one hundred million simultaneous wishes
she dips beneath the surface one final time
Can you hear – off in the distance? Small but mighty
bold uninhibited wail the wordless arrival of baby New Year
Pick her up, nurture her well
Love her wide full and without reservation
Go big this year…and leave your own dressing at the shore in a year.