I'm not much of a resolution-er. I think we can change our lives moment by moment no matter what the calendar says. I think most people who know me probably understand how that works for me.
Even without resolutions, I still take the time every year to reflect on what a total transformation 365 days can have on life. I've had a couple of major transformations in merely a year, but I think 2016 is the biggest. There are so very many reasons, but it started out like this:
On January 1, I woke up and I thought I knew what the Rest of My Life was going to look like. 32 days later, everything I thought I knew burned down around me as I watched the Rest of My Life walk out of the front door. It was tempting to stand still and burn with it; Ani DeFranco reminded me, instead, that I could "dare to rise up from the ash."
2016 was hard for a lot of reasons, the Rest of My Life not withstanding. Transitions in family, in professional identity, in self identity, in relationships with friends old and new, in relationship with myself - all this contributed to what made the weight of 2016 nearly crush me. All the details are not important unless you were there; if you were there, we need not continuously remind ourselves.
The significance and impact of this year is as profound as it was challenging, though. In multi-dimensional ways, I have been the beneficiary of heartache. I was battered and bruised, even broken sometimes, but I healed better, stronger, braver. Everything is on the upswing now, but it wouldn't be without the brush fire that cleared my path.
To honor the brush fire, to truly make peace with what this adversity brought me, I've spent the morning thinking about what parts of 2016 need burning. What is still in my way? What must I let go of? What can I transform into ash? What must I hold onto?
In 45 minutes, I'll go off grid for most of the rest of this day, to build a fire in a new back yard. I'll burn the heartache, the anger, the bitter, the ugly. I'll burn the missteps at work, the unhealthy expectations, the disappointments. I'll burn down what felt like rejection, what was rejection, what felt like rejection, but actually wasn't. When that is all gone, when I've let go of claiming all that hurt me, or haunts me, I'll reach into the remnants of that fire, and pull back a piece of wood with life still left. That piece of wood is everything wonderful about my life, everything I couldn't have or be if not for this year.
It's the reality of friends who stayed nearby even when I needed to go it alone.
It's three 1,000 year friends I found on a river in canoes.
It's the bond of friendship with someone who found me broken, but let me mend myself.
It's the potential of an incredible love and family I'm building with someone I never expected to find.
It's the space to grow into new opportunities in the industry and the community.
It's the fuel for the things that will come in 2017 that I can't possibly anticipate.
Tomorrow, I'll start a new fire with that piece of wood, and some part of that new fire will become the next fire, and the next, etcetera and so on.
It's a nod to the cyclical nature of life. It's an acceptance that when life burns down, it's not a loss but clarity. It's a reminder that the best things that happen in life can only happen when you've made space for them.
Be a phoenix, my friends, and rise up from the ash.
Happy New Year, and many blessings in 2017.
Even without resolutions, I still take the time every year to reflect on what a total transformation 365 days can have on life. I've had a couple of major transformations in merely a year, but I think 2016 is the biggest. There are so very many reasons, but it started out like this:
On January 1, I woke up and I thought I knew what the Rest of My Life was going to look like. 32 days later, everything I thought I knew burned down around me as I watched the Rest of My Life walk out of the front door. It was tempting to stand still and burn with it; Ani DeFranco reminded me, instead, that I could "dare to rise up from the ash."
2016 was hard for a lot of reasons, the Rest of My Life not withstanding. Transitions in family, in professional identity, in self identity, in relationships with friends old and new, in relationship with myself - all this contributed to what made the weight of 2016 nearly crush me. All the details are not important unless you were there; if you were there, we need not continuously remind ourselves.
The significance and impact of this year is as profound as it was challenging, though. In multi-dimensional ways, I have been the beneficiary of heartache. I was battered and bruised, even broken sometimes, but I healed better, stronger, braver. Everything is on the upswing now, but it wouldn't be without the brush fire that cleared my path.
To honor the brush fire, to truly make peace with what this adversity brought me, I've spent the morning thinking about what parts of 2016 need burning. What is still in my way? What must I let go of? What can I transform into ash? What must I hold onto?
In 45 minutes, I'll go off grid for most of the rest of this day, to build a fire in a new back yard. I'll burn the heartache, the anger, the bitter, the ugly. I'll burn the missteps at work, the unhealthy expectations, the disappointments. I'll burn down what felt like rejection, what was rejection, what felt like rejection, but actually wasn't. When that is all gone, when I've let go of claiming all that hurt me, or haunts me, I'll reach into the remnants of that fire, and pull back a piece of wood with life still left. That piece of wood is everything wonderful about my life, everything I couldn't have or be if not for this year.
It's the reality of friends who stayed nearby even when I needed to go it alone.
It's three 1,000 year friends I found on a river in canoes.
It's the bond of friendship with someone who found me broken, but let me mend myself.
It's the potential of an incredible love and family I'm building with someone I never expected to find.
It's the space to grow into new opportunities in the industry and the community.
It's the fuel for the things that will come in 2017 that I can't possibly anticipate.
Tomorrow, I'll start a new fire with that piece of wood, and some part of that new fire will become the next fire, and the next, etcetera and so on.
It's a nod to the cyclical nature of life. It's an acceptance that when life burns down, it's not a loss but clarity. It's a reminder that the best things that happen in life can only happen when you've made space for them.
Be a phoenix, my friends, and rise up from the ash.
Happy New Year, and many blessings in 2017.
Shakedown dreams walking in broad daylight
Three hun-dred six-ty fix de-gress
Burning down the house
It was once upon a place sometimes I listen to myself
Gonna come in first place
People on their way to work baby
What did you expect
Gonna burst into flame
-Talking Heads
