We rang in the New Year up at my mom’s cabin in northern Minnesota as we so often do. It was cozy—just D, the girls, my mom and step-dad and me. We cooked and ate and read and did puzzles (in an obsessive way that was somehow still relaxing). The girls and D skated in circles, playing keep-away on the rectangle of lake we shoveled clean. And we skied loops in the woods, our bodies lengthening as we glided through fresh snow. That is one of my favorite things. I love the way I can feel my body stretching out, my back straightening as I get into the groove of pushing and gliding. I love the way my triceps burn as I struggle up a hill. I love the rustle of wind through dry leaves, the brilliant blue of sky through dark branches, the glint of sun on snow. It’s when I take stock of the year coming to a close and whisper my hopes for the next year.
Some years the transition from one year to the next feels seamless. But sometimes I’m really ready to be done with a year and start something new, fresh. That’s how I feel now. Last year was not an easy one for me. There were joys, of course—plenty of them, really. But there was also the weight of not feeling well, finally deciding on surgery, the subsequent digestive complications. There were many moments last fall when it felt as if I was simply trying to stay afloat in the churning swirl of a mid-life crisis. What did I need? Yoga? God? A kick-ass nutritionist?
I might still be in that mid-life crisis stage, but I sense I’m emerging from it. The kick-ass nutritionist helps, and I’m trying to listen carefully to myself, to my body. I don’t have anything figured out yet, but I’m hopeful.
Over the last few weeks, I have more often bookmarked a webpage to my recipe folder than to my teaching/writing folder. But I’m ready to shift gears again, get back to the novel, to words and sentences and paragraphs. I’m ready to start thinking about retreats and teaching, how to help others find a way into the stories they need to tell. And I’ve decided I’ll be here at this blog each week during the next year. I don’t know what I’ll write about, but I’m hoping it will be a touchstone for me. I hope you’ll join me.
What are your hopes for 2016? I’d love to hear them.