Another year. I used to think of it like it was over, like I’d just completed something, marking an X on the wall like I’d done time. I don’t know why; I just did. But this year I am decidedly feeling like it is a beginning. At some point in the last year I could see the trajectory of my life was not one my heart felt called to anymore. So, I threw a wrench into the works knowing it would insist on change.
I think some era’s in life begin this way—with a sense of feeling life as you’ve known it is coming to an end. Like weeding a garden that’s gone to seed. You can hear something calling to you, a far away bloom, a perfume of future creativity. If I was being honest I would say I am intoxicated with the scent of it already.
Wherever you are, I’m toasting you for reading this blog and I hope to share many more words this year with you than last.
It’s that time of year again,
hang my flag, say it’s my day.
Bring your weak lumbar,
your wrecked knee, fading eyebrows and
fear of earthquakes —
assess the years on the
karma abacus, your finger
touching more and more beads
sliding over years one by one
Still, at night
You have a hunger, a mortal wish
to uncover promises you made to
yourself, so you route around
on the silty floor of the past,
and find your life
ready at long last
to be understood.