I'm not a huge fan of New Year's Eve. Upon careful reflection, I can't remember a single NYE celebration that stands out as particularly thrilling or remarkable. It just doesn't go that way for me.
But I do enjoy counting down to midnight. That ten seconds is generally worth staying up until midnight. I like clear endings and beginnings; I like running through the proverbial race ribbon.
Tonight, as I count down from ten-nine-eight, I will be saying goodbye to a very odd year. This is the year I finally established a healing practice; published an art piece in a national magazine; created and distributed three zines (Handmade Life has hit the UK!); met Mr. Moonlight Chronicles in the flesh; and road-tripped to Glacier National Park to finally drive on the Going-to-the-Sun Road.
It's also the year we blew up the van at the side of a 101-degree road in the middle of noplace. It's the year we went bankrupt, losing our gamble at borrowing until we caught up with our businesses. It's the year I came to understand--given the time and space to do so--that I don't appear to be particularly special. I'm not a blazing comet; I'm a mom, a sometime writer, a hobby artist, a short-range traveler. Visions of greatness have faded this year.
Then again, it's also the year I started clog dancing, mostly because I noticed an opportunity as a result of working through the Artist's Way with a group of friends. And this year, I filled two art journals with interesting pieces (at least they're interesting to me), learned how to make beaded dolls and soldered charms, and dared to ride a horse again even though they terrify me.
When I look ahead to 2009, I don't know what to think. I have no particular plans. I want for nothing, really. I'm not reaching or longing for anything. I refuse to make resolutions on principle--but I don't even have a wish list.
Maybe all the time I spend with my Buddhist friends is wearing off on me. Maybe I am accidentally learning not to lunge forward or cling to the past. I seem to be just--here. Living one day at a time. One year at a time.