It’s funny — I always think these sorts of posts are interesting to read . . . until I sit down to write them, and I think: mine is so boring! This is ultimately more for myself than for any potential reader.
2013 has been a rough year for many people I know and love; for myself, it’s had some ups and downs, but primarily, on my emotional landscape, 2013 has been about assimilating the grief that 2012 introduced into my life and figuring out how to go forward, how I wanted to go forward. For far too many people that I care about 2013 was very much for them what 2012 was for me, so I cannot say that this was a good year.
I’ll admit it — I did not cope well with my grandparents’ passing. We all grieve in our own way, of course that much is true, and at our own pace, and there are days when it’s brand new all over again. I can say the words. They were my grandparents. It was, eventually, expected. Intellectually, most of the time I get that. At this point, emotionally I’m there as well. And then there are those moments, when life is rushing by far to fast and I want to reach out and hold everything closecloseclose, or just scream. And then, there are those moments when I’m allowed to step outside of time, outside of linear-being, and there’s absolutely nothing to scream about because no one has left, because there is no leaving.
This year has taught me much, about sacred not-time. About sacred not-space.
Back in June, Poseidon granted me the experience of an epiphany that . . . I can’t even find the words to sum it up. I’m not less depressive. I’m not suddenly better able to deal with people. I don’t suddenly have more patience/am more kind/more compassionate . . . except, also, I am. I think, I’m more able to suffer, to hold the pain of not-enough-never-enough in my mind while still doing what I am called to do, without burning out so often. I am trying, more and more, to embody the “Be the change you want to see in the world,” adage, and I think I’m succeeding more than I’m failing. And, new for me, I’m happy to fail because failure simply means I’m trying.
I’m writing. A lot. I’ve had numerous stories published in various places. I’ve written a non-fiction book that, if I can get around to actually tightening it up a LOT might see the light of day, sometime. I’ve got plans for 2014 that mostly involve myself and a word processor and a number of books.
This time of year is ruled by Gebo, for me. Past, future, giving, receiving, with Kenaz built in to cast illumination in the dark . . . .
I’m looking forward to next year. I don’t know that I’ve ever looked forward to a year before.