I have largely recovered from Christmas and its before-and-aftermaths. As my old daddy used to say, I’ve had about as much fun as I can stand.
Every guest room was full, and the kitchen was Grand Central Station, in micro. I ate and I drank–there was a lot to celebrate–but now I’m back, with some relief, on the D.I.E.T. and walking Bernice at least once a day. She lives for those walks.
For me, by contrast, New Year’s is a very quiet and introspective time. I set goals and intentions, light candles, and reflect on my long, long gratitude list. I think about things I’d like to do differently in the future, like most people, but I can’t say I make actual resolutions. That just doesn’t work for me, perhaps because the resolutions are so often framed (nobody’s fault but my own) in a negative way.
I like my friend Debbie Macomber’s “word” method–see the current issue of “Guideposts”, she’s on the cover!–i.e., choosing a powerful, concise word to live up to in the coming year. This year, I’m choosing “Thrive”. I’m determined to relax a little and enjoy the things I’ve already achieved, instead of looking for the ever elusive “more”. At my stage of life, it’s about collecting experiences, not things.
I’ve set up the beginnings of an art journal, done calendar style, with a small square for each day of January, just to make a note. I’m not all that happy with it, frankly, but since I have a shelf-full of art journals with one or two pages filled, I’m determined to follow through. In other words, I’m willing to do this badly until I can do it better. After all, it’s a personal journal–how fancy does it have to be? Of course it doesn’t look like the journals of artists I admire, like Teesha Moore and Pam Carriker, to name just two of dozens, but there is a good reason for that. It’s MY journal and it should reflect where I’m at in my journey, in the all-important Right Now.
On another topic, if you were in Spokane right this moment, you’d swear it was spring. The sun is shining and the sky is the most delicate blue. Only the cold would give you a clue that it’s really the last day of December, and I’ve got that covered. My sister Sally knitted me a wonderful, warm scarf to wear when Bernice and I head out on our short treks around the property and my trusty old nylon jacket keeps out the chill.
You, my friends and readers, are at the top of my gratitude list this year and every year. Thank you for being exactly who you are, and for doing what you do.
Here’s to a wonderful 2012, for all of us.