Item: 1 2007 calendar
I'm a little scared about the end of 2006. I'm not really ready for it to be over. Reading this blog of late, you might think I'm never ready for anything to be over, but that's not true. Sometimes I am.
2006, in particular, though, is noteworthy because it was a good year - nothing major, but a lot of things that felt like progress. Or perhaps it just seems so because 2005 was the opposite, in that everything seemed to be working against me. It was probably November of 2005 before I could admit that it just wasn't my year, before I could accept this and live with it, before patience rather than anger was my first response. And here I sit, better off in almost every category than I was a year ago. Living in a new place, literally.
You can say, if you like, that the difference between December 31 of one year and January 1 of another is just an arbitrary division and that you make the difference yourself, but the fact remains that almost as soon as it became 2006 things became better like the flip of a switch. Something in the atmosphere eased, palpably.
So okay, great, it's been a good year, but what happens now? I know full well that periods of grace or whatever you want to call them are only going to last for a specified time. And who knows what happens next? Being in a better place means that now the insecurity is more acute, as in the David Wilcox song: "now you've just got farther to fall."
If fear comes from the unknown, then it follows that the turning of the year would bring up such twinges. I love New Year's Day for precisely this reason, that it's the first step into the unknown, but I also know that this could be leading to something that I would consider really bad news. I picked up an acorn the other day, which I knew contained the seed of what it would become inside of it. I shook it, expecting to hear it rattle or something, but it made no sound. It told me nothing.
2006, in particular, though, is noteworthy because it was a good year - nothing major, but a lot of things that felt like progress. Or perhaps it just seems so because 2005 was the opposite, in that everything seemed to be working against me. It was probably November of 2005 before I could admit that it just wasn't my year, before I could accept this and live with it, before patience rather than anger was my first response. And here I sit, better off in almost every category than I was a year ago. Living in a new place, literally.
You can say, if you like, that the difference between December 31 of one year and January 1 of another is just an arbitrary division and that you make the difference yourself, but the fact remains that almost as soon as it became 2006 things became better like the flip of a switch. Something in the atmosphere eased, palpably.
So okay, great, it's been a good year, but what happens now? I know full well that periods of grace or whatever you want to call them are only going to last for a specified time. And who knows what happens next? Being in a better place means that now the insecurity is more acute, as in the David Wilcox song: "now you've just got farther to fall."
If fear comes from the unknown, then it follows that the turning of the year would bring up such twinges. I love New Year's Day for precisely this reason, that it's the first step into the unknown, but I also know that this could be leading to something that I would consider really bad news. I picked up an acorn the other day, which I knew contained the seed of what it would become inside of it. I shook it, expecting to hear it rattle or something, but it made no sound. It told me nothing.
posted by Karen at 6:50 PM
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