IT'S ANOTHER NEW YEAR

As a little kid, I was always under the impression that something magical would happen when the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve, like we would be able to visually see the difference between the old and new year. I would do my best to stay awake. I’ve always been an early to bed, early to rise kind of gal. I don’t even think my parents had to enforce a bedtime, but if they did, New Year’s Eve was the one night they didn’t. Yet, I always ended up falling asleep on my Strawberry Shortcake quilt on the floor in front of the fire. Much like a dog. Dad would nudge me awake just in time for me to watch, with sleep blurred eyes, the chaos of Times Square as the count down to the new year ended on the television. Three, two, one…Happy New Year! and then I would toddle off to bed, dragging my quilt behind me. Eventually I’d reach an age for parties and celebrating the old year moving into the new would be just an excuse for excess food and drinks.

Those years when Chris and I celebrated the New Year at The Annual Flaming Lips New Year’s Eve Freakout where probably the best ones I’ve celebrated.

Despite the state of the celebration, I’ve usually carried with me some sort of hope of better for the New Year. This is something I’ve held onto since I was small. It falls into the whole belief that something magical will happen at midnight. The December I was maybe six or seven, Katrina lost her second child in childbirth. A sadness settled in on my family that holiday season that we probably still carry with us, like layers in the earth’s crust. If you dig down deep, you’ll find a thin layer of blackness representing that year. Christmas was celebrated that year in a very melancholy fashion. I can remember being scolded for plunking out Jingle Bells on the family piano. Christmas Joy was not permissible that year and when New Year’s Eve arrived, I built my nest in front of the fire with a bowl of snacks and a Muppets mug of root beer, determined to stay awake. My little six or seven year old heart new with all its might that moving into the new year would mean happiness for my family.

No and yes. My six or seven year old little heart had yet to understand the concept of time or how my core sample would end up containing many layers of blackness wedged between layers of good earth. My core sample is a kaleidoscope.

I went to bed just after midnight with the idea that I would get up in the morning and get on my yoga mat. I would start the New Year off right and jump into action of immediate change. I had cleaned the house the day before, taken down all of Christmas the day before that, and this left my schedule for New Year’s Day free and open to possibilities. I would use that time to get myself organized mentally for the self work I have planned for 2023. Part of that plan includes renewing my own yoga practice, but I rolled over in my bed and blinked at the sunlight streaming into my window, surprised that I’d slept late enough to have sunlight streaming in my window. I crawled out of bed, fed the animals and showered. I could have rolled out my mat then, but instead I made coffee and cleaned up the few dishes leftover from our night. Then I sat at my desk and cleared out my email inbox while sipping coffee. The day is early; I can still get on my mat at some point.

You see, I still have that hope for better that comes with a New Year. I’ve just lost the belief that the better and change happens immediately. The only thing magical about the transition from the old year to the new year is that we survived another rotation around the sun. Everything else takes time and patience. My goals are marathon goals and I spent all of last year learning new skills for managing my time while being kind to myself. I spent all of last year training for those marathon goals and this is the year to start running at a reasonable pace. So I’m easing in. Slowly. On my own time.

Happy New Year.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

We’ve just made it through the first week of the new year and I sure hope everyone has survived. I know that I struggled a bit to get back into my usual routine. The intention was set. My work out gear is sitting in my desk chair in anticipation of me opening up my computer and playing one of my online fitness classes. Instead of getting up to exercise, I lingered under the warm blankets of my bed with Josephine snuggled in next to my hip. I did get on my yoga mat and I did my daily building walks. I ate less cheese this week. I got some evening exercise time in playing Beat Saber. Mostly though, I sat on the couch reading every evening.

The thing that is different about this week versus other weeks is that instead of mentally berating myself for not getting out bed to exercise or spending too much time sitting, I have whispered “have patience with yourself” under my breath, with eyes gently closed. I started teaching a chair yoga class this week and was feeling anxious about it. It has been years since I have taught a chair yoga class and it seems like it has been years since I have taught to a live studio audience. I struggle with the perception that a chair yoga class is not challenging and sort of pointless. In fact when I mentioned that I was teaching this class, a few people said to me “what even is the point of chair yoga?” But my anxiety melted away the minute I started teaching. Not only was the class very well received, but it felt really good to teach and I allowed myself to soak up that feeling of doing something well. It was a reminder that sitting still in a chair is just as effective as sitting still on your mat (or couch).

I have told myself that there is nothing wrong with wanting to practice some hibernation. The attempts to force myself away from this practice has always led me down a self destructive road of exhaustion and disappointment. Because my natural instinct and tendencies lean towards winter hibernation. Yes, I have made personal goals for this year, goals that require me to buckle down and work both physically and mentally. But I will also tell you that part of those personal goals is to work more mindfully and to pace myself. I am easing myself into this year like easing into a swimming pool of cool water, dipping my toes in first, all while patting myself on the back for dipping my toes in at all.

This year, Michael gave me a set of mindfulness dice to use for my weekly photography project. When I rolled and placed the dice for the first picture of the project, it was the block that read “trust intuition” in bold red that stood out for me the most. There are times when I need permission for certain things and this block felt like this was my permission to not just trust my intuition but to honour my natural instincts. This week, I am grateful for trusting myself.