Year-in-review posts are kind of boring. They're charming, and they come from a place I believe is healthy; being thankful and appreciative is a good idea. It helps people like you (as in appreciate you, but also it helps people who are similar to you - I think that's an interesting double meaning), but moreover it helps you like yourself. I keep rediscovering that about thankfulness.
And yet I find myself skimming these posts as I come across them. I only really read the ones that seem to say, from the get-go: THIS WAS A REALLY HARD YEAR.
Those posts just feel more toothy to me. They're alive in a way that's critical - they can be thankful and thoughtful at the same time. This WAS a really hard year. And, of course, a lucky one. It's always everything. Lovely hard lucky year goodbye, hello.
This end-of-yearing we do is like a national border. Erected and made solemn, it is JUST AN IMAGINARY LINE, marked by clinking glasses. Allowing us all another chance, which are in fact constant and infinite, to improve. It's a method of tracking, a very-human idea whose genesis probably has much to do with capital and control (sorry I spin out in stoned-ape theorems) but it's also adorable. I like New Year's Eve. It's quaint. Auld Lang Syne and appreciation and opportunity. Circles of hugging friends, a reason for synchronized kissing.
This Eve I went up to a cabin in the mountains with some friends, and after that line of glasses and bubbles, that circle of arms attached to beloved persons, I snuck away to smoke in solitude (I know it's terrible, and I have the requisite Resolution, I just haven't quite enacted it yet) and I stood quietly in a dark doorway, looking out at an enormous frozen lake. Wind whipped across it and hills rose up above it: white sky, white water. And I thought about the almost-entirely-concrete things that WILL happen in two-thousand-fifteen. Not resolutions, but necessities. Build a fence. Start seedlings, more than ever. Plant that garden and live in it. More time for Flower Scout, less time at desk. People appreciating things I make with my hands. Moreover, making things with my hands.
It lit me up with a real joy. I don't really need resolutions, though I know I should quit using cigarettes as an excuse to step outside alone. I don't need resolutions because THINGS ARE ALREADY UNDERWAY. This was a hard year but I set me up, man. I took care of me in a way that means I can keep building on that care. I can roll on toward springtime with more faith in my capabilities than I've ever had before, because of this thing.
Is this boring? Sorry! I didn't even mean to write it. Here we go into the future; see you there.