Begin Again

Celebrating a “new year” as a global concept (regardless of which culture’s calendar is followed) is a marvelous thing.  Human beings have chosen to delineate the passage of time with a great turning of the wheel, a symbol constructed of geometry, astronomy, numerology, legalities, and myth. It’s what we do: we construct, tear down, construct again. Always turning.

So here we are. I love the number 19, for reasons which reach back 45 years in my own timeline, to adolescence.  But that’s a poem for another day. 2019 is the only year with 19 as a suffix which I will ever experience, so I am choosing to see it as an auspicious moment in time: a cause for celebration, an inducement, even an imperative. Live it out loud. Into and through the elements, the seasons, the demarcations of culture, liturgies and symbols. Eager to reach across boundaries of all kinds: mental, spiritual, fear-based, other-imposed.  Everything is connected in an unbroken flow, even as we set up false divisions, borders, “that was then, this is now; then was better, now is worse” and so on.

I’m glad to be here, glad to still be writing, musing, finding a way to begin again. Here’s to the unbroken connection of creativity. Here’s to how we choose to go on.

Port Townsend fireworks, New Year’s Eve 2018.