I had planned to write about how being a writer and an editor often invades the way I read for pleasure. It was going to be specific and insightful. Then one of my daughter’s classmates was at school with COVID-19, so she needs to quarantine until after Christmas. (My daughter is fine. Her test result was negative. I’m grateful that we’ve all been free of symptoms so far. )
The situation shifted my priorities. I didn’t have time or focus to properly flesh out any ideas. I tried to power through. I wanted not to lose creative momentum on my first week of being free from employment. I wanted to stay on top of things. But if there was ever a year to release myself from self-imposed obligations, it’s this one. Circumstances certainly catapulted me in that direction.
Since then, my brain has been churning with reflections on relaxing, tuning into the smallsweet heart voice, being present in the day you’re given. I guess I’ll have to practice the ideas before I write about them. I’m going to give myself time.
We all seem to be gasping for a new year, and the new year won’t bring instant relief. Here is my year-end benediction:
May your holidays be gentle. May you be granted the grace to invite grief to the table. May you hear words of connection and understanding. May you realize your worth is in your weird, beautiful existence. May deep love visit you. May shelter and sanctuary find you amid abject fuckery.