1/1/11

As the sun set on 2010, I considered reflecting on the year, but it was too much, really. It was an amazing year with so many surprises that it is simply impossible to recount them. In summation, I've met some wonderful folks this year, which restores this misanthrope's faith in humanity.
Instead I decided to think about 2011. I am kind of superstitious. I think the way I begin a year will set the tone for the rest. You can imagine my chagrin, then, when a few years back James and I opened the year sidelined by food poisoning. And yes, the rest of the year went as such. Since then, I've made a conscious effort to begin the year with deliberate intent. This year opens with organization, both of my home and my thoughts. I am not alone. Magazines are devoted to either losing weight or organizing one's belongings, or both. In fact, I hear Target has conveniently created four separate locations where shoppers can pick up plastic tubs and shelf organizers. This is serious zeitgeist at work here. Because 2010 had me running like a hamster on a wheel for most of the year, things like steam cleaning the carpets and tossing crusty remainders out of the cupboards were pushed off, until now. Forget spring cleaning. New Year's Cleaning. I'm hoping that by getting the house in order, I'll gain control of all the rest. And if not, at least the carpets will be clean.

Cheers and Peace!

Resolutions: Some people love them, others abhor them. I fall into the former category, hoping to control the universe, or at least my own behavior, through my resolve. In that light, I reread last year’s resolution entry—discovering the unexpected drawback of accountability.

Some years I need an excel spreadsheet to organize the ‘new me’, but this year I’m keeping it simple, which may be the hardest task of all. I woke up to 2010 to read this wonderful thought sent by my friend, choreographer Ann Robideaux--

Forget the Ten or Twelve Commandments. There is one commandment and that is LOVE.

It’s a great sentiment to start the year, so I’m going to make that my number one resolution—to love life wholeheartedly, to love others, even those I’d like to strangle, especially those I’d like to strangle, to love the challenges and see them as opportunities.

As the late Harold E. Carter used to end his every letter to me, I shall end today’s entry in kind, Cheers and Peace.

Evening Musings

Potic was the perfect place to end a busy 2009. Its solitude gave us the quiet space to reflect on the past year and on our goals for the coming one. I took these sunset shots of the house for some potential paintings, and although one 2010 goal is to put proper siding on the building, I confess I've grown fond of the black thermal wrap, especially with the contrast of incandescent glow in the windows. Perhaps it's the voyeur in me, but I am drawn to the shadowy world of nighttime exteriors, the hidden lives now exposed in the illuminated panes of glass.

Hibernation

Heading upstate for a couple of days of hibernation and reflection. Packed with food, books, journals, sketchbooks, meditation cd, and a case of wine, I think we're set. See you when we get back. And if you are in the Catskill area, please do stop by.

Autumn in the Air

A happy new year to those of you celebrating Rosh Hashanah. September is a time of renewal, perhaps moreso than January. The combination of a new school year and the crispness in the air leads to a new sense of purpose for me. I get new notebooks and sharpen my pencils, jotting down all sorts of goals-- what I'm going to read, what I plan to create, what I'd like to see. As I head indoors, I begin nesting again, looking for ways to make the house cozy, buying more comfort foods, brewing an extra pot of tea, lighting a candle as the sun sets. I take out sweaters and scarves, stockings and boots, envisioning brisk walks with the dog surrounded by falling leaves.

I haven't always felt this way. Autumn was merely a precursor to a long, dreaded winter, but these days I realize I don't have time for dreading anything. Life is a series of fleeting, flickering moments and to dread anything as constant as the change in seasons is to waste precious time.

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.