Social media is constantly trying to tell us that this year has been a terrible one. This message has gotten louder specially now that the year is ending and we’re all making resolutions for the next year. However, if you listen to the softer voices, you’ll realize that there is a parallel dialogue going on; one where this year hasn’t been the worst, but actually one of the best.
I remember last year vivdly for all the travel and good work it brought me. Last year was defined by movement – to travel, to work, for leisure and for the soul. This year was a stark contrast to last year. The world was indoors, the skies cleared up, Netflix reduced it’s video resolution (for a while at least).
It was seemingly the perfect time to take up a new hobby, to read the TBR books, to clean the house and your friends’ list. It’s no surprise most of us got none of this done, this year was unforgiving with its strangeness. I thought I’d go through the pile of books accumulating on my bookshelf (and on most other surfaces in my apartment. I also thought I’d write my magnum opus. The piles continue to grow and the magnum opus is a dream.
But I’m also well rested, bubbling with ideas, still in love with yoga. I have the energy to teach 7 consecultive classes and the enthusiasm to draw rough outlines for my magnum opus. I write 3 journal pages a day and read a chapter every night before I sleep. This year has given me an important pause. Next year I’m ready to blaze on…