A New Year

I celebrate every possible new years. . . of course the calendar year, but also the Chinese, the Jewish, the Indian, every school year-- I like to joke that it's because I keep breaking my resolutions.
Seriously, what is it about a new year that makes me perk up? Like opening a new notebook, my first few days of the year become very symbolic to me-- even superstitious. One year we all got deathly ill on day two and I knew it was going to be a bad year. This year I was very deliberate in anticipating the transition from one year to the next. After a few days eating raw oysters at the Bouler camphouse in Tunnel Springs, Alabama, designed by none other than James Bouler, architect, 2008 seemed complete.
Sitting alone in a tree stand smack in the middle of the woods, I reflected on all the changes the past year brought. It was good to think of what went well, but it was more significant to consider the lessons of things that didn't go as seamlessly as I may have liked. Those are always the best lessons of all.
For 2009, I waver between a punchlist of resolutions and making none, but in the end, I wind up with a few, ones which I hope will reveal themselves in this blog and in my life. The most important one is to look at the world with a curious mind, whether it is learning about cultivating mushrooms or the latest eco-friendly products, I want to engage whatever comes my way. As Emily Dickenson once wrote, "I dwell in possibility."
In the meantime, while I was meditating, Olivia scouted an open field for arrowheads and fossils as Jackson and James caught fish in the pond. Seems as if they're already living their 2009 resolutions.