"But the sky certainly lies open; we shall go that way."
- Ovid, Metamorphoses
The end of the year marks a particular kind of pause, not so much a finish line or a hard stop. It's a liminal, empty space. A kind of pleasant void.
It's a threshold where time slows down, allowing us to catch our breath, to exhale deeply, to relax and restore. A time to look back, imagine forward, and inquire within.
With both a birthday and a new year on the horizon, I find it helpful, essential really, to take a deliberate pause.
It feels like so much has happened this year, and not much at all. How have I evolved, what have I learned? What patterns do I keep repeating? Which are generative, and which are not helpful at all? What conversations and connections have moved me, and how have I contributed to my close knit and broader community? Have I challenged myself creatively, have I given others the opportunity to do the same?
Perhaps these are questions you may be asking yourself as well. Or, maybe you are on a beach in Bali without a care in the world. Both answers are not only acceptable, but advisable. Inquiry is essential for our growth and evolution, and joy and play are often forgotten friends, sometimes unconsciously forbidden, as we make our way through the 365 days. Both are teachers that won't admonish or abandon us, even when we lose our way. Some days, even years, laughter is hard to come by. Other times, it is the only thing that will get us through.
Let this inquiry be less of an accounting than a curious review.
And then, gently turn your gaze to the days to come.
Every year around this time, I choose two words for the year ahead. Words that act as a lightening rod to fuel creativity and rouse me out of my comfort zone. Words that are a guard rail from straying too far from the center line, while also allowing for spontaneous or deliberate detours along the way. Words that are grounding intentions, not demanding goals. Words that will become my trusted companions for the next 365 days of the year. I haven't yet chosen these words, but I have started the list. I'm curious to see what comes forward, which words I choose, which words choose me.
Today, I'm slowing down. I'm not going to tax myself with thinking too hard. I'm going to enjoy the emptiness and fullness of another day. Whether you're on a beach or in a room with a view, I wish the same for you.
Next week, when we meet here again, a new year will have turned. Until then, I hope you live life to the fullest, count your blessings, love on friends and family, rest, play, relax, restore, if you are able. Give yourself the gift of what you need. This is what I wish for you.
Happy New Year, friends!
X Alisa
Photo credit: “Caelum” Sculpture by Martin Dawe