AS THE DAYS GROW DARKER AND THE YEAR SLOUCHES TO A CLOSE, RATHER THAN DWELL ON THE DYING LIGHT AND THE COLDNESS SEEPING INTO MY BONES, I USE THIS TIME TO HIBERNATE AND THINK OF SPRING.
I do not mean hibernate as in fall into unconsciousness, passing the days without thought. Just the opposite. I mean chrysalis. The cocooning and processing all that came before and preparation to explode forth, drying my wings in the sun again.
This year is different in a way. In a way it is the culmination of a trend that I have noticed–that as I age it is less about the details and more about the whole picture. In another way, I am noticing that I have once again come full circle and that many things begun, sometimes a long time ago and given up as hopeless, have come to a close. As with such endings, it makes me extra conscious of the new day dawning, the new road spreading before me, and the call sings in my bones: Further. Deeper. More.
I feel like I’ve started out grandly with so many fine beginnings that fizzled and went nowhere–meandering the dark forest in search of the path, abandoned, found again, fled from, then grasped at once more. I don’t want the drama and fanfare. I am doing this thing. I want to share my thoughts about it. That is all.
Suffice to say, after a long interlude with stagnation (stagnation I now understand as a period of synthesis,) the world is opening up again and I am desperate not to waste it. I don’t know how many chances I’ll get again, and so I feel this deep pressure to suck each moment as if it were my last breath of air.
Open Art 