A New Year
I normally like new years. They’re an annual—if artificial—chance to start over, to reassess and try again and throw ourselves with renewed dedication and hope into the endless quest to make ourselves, our lives, our world a little bit better.
Yet I find myself approaching this new year with a strange sense of detachment somehow lacking the enthusiasm with which I normally embrace this ritual. Perhaps it’s because New Orleans is wrapped in a deep freeze that is killing my garden with an icy wind howling straight from the arctic to whip at my hibiscus and palms and the bare stems of my frangiapanis. Perhaps it’s because I’ve just said a stoic goodbye to my youngest, off for a grand adventure in London. Perhaps it’s because I’m watching my 92-year-old mother fail a little more with each passing day. I could blame the economy, the endless beating of war drums and the greed of politicians, but that will always be with us. Maybe I’m just in a funk. Maybe this year I’ll focus on the Chinese New Year, coming February 14. It’s going be the Year of the Tiger. Time to start practicing my roar.
In the meantime, I’m stealing this New Year’s wish from Steve Malley, because Neil Gaiman has managed to capture the spirit I’m finding illusive at the moment:
“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books, and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art. Write, or draw, or build, or sing, or live, as only you can.
“May your coming year be a wonderful thing, in which you dream both dangerously and outrageously. I hope you'll make something that didn't exist before you made it; that you will be loved, and you will be liked; and you will have people to love and to like in return. And most importantly, because I think there should be more kindness and more wisdom in the world right now, I hope that you will, when you need to be, be wise, and that you will always be kind. And I hope that somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.”
Cheers, everyone.
Yet I find myself approaching this new year with a strange sense of detachment somehow lacking the enthusiasm with which I normally embrace this ritual. Perhaps it’s because New Orleans is wrapped in a deep freeze that is killing my garden with an icy wind howling straight from the arctic to whip at my hibiscus and palms and the bare stems of my frangiapanis. Perhaps it’s because I’ve just said a stoic goodbye to my youngest, off for a grand adventure in London. Perhaps it’s because I’m watching my 92-year-old mother fail a little more with each passing day. I could blame the economy, the endless beating of war drums and the greed of politicians, but that will always be with us. Maybe I’m just in a funk. Maybe this year I’ll focus on the Chinese New Year, coming February 14. It’s going be the Year of the Tiger. Time to start practicing my roar.
In the meantime, I’m stealing this New Year’s wish from Steve Malley, because Neil Gaiman has managed to capture the spirit I’m finding illusive at the moment:
“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books, and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art. Write, or draw, or build, or sing, or live, as only you can.
“May your coming year be a wonderful thing, in which you dream both dangerously and outrageously. I hope you'll make something that didn't exist before you made it; that you will be loved, and you will be liked; and you will have people to love and to like in return. And most importantly, because I think there should be more kindness and more wisdom in the world right now, I hope that you will, when you need to be, be wise, and that you will always be kind. And I hope that somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.”
Cheers, everyone.
posted by cs harris at 10:03 AM
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