I didn’t write for much of the latter half of 2015, which was mostly intentional. I’d start formulating posts in my head and think, Is that right? Is that fair? Is that even close to hitting the mark? 2015 was like a weird, extended period of upheaval, and trying to pin down with certainty how things were at any given time would be akin to asking a butterfly pupa what metamorphosis was like right now while they’re all jumbled and mushy.
“It happened,” is probably what they’d say, once their mouth had re-formed.
I’m not ready yet to put a frame around the past year and say This Is What It Was. Much of the stuff that happened, both good and bad, simply isn’t for public consumption just yet and won’t be written about until I’ve gained some distance. Other things, neither overwhelmingly positive nor overwhelmingly negative, I am still figuring out (ask me again later, when my mouth has re-formed.)
But…I knew how I wanted to start 2016.
I took a walk.
I set my time toward a new goal.
I stayed still for a while.
I read books.
I practiced solitude, more or less.
I am not going to be perfect at any of this in the year to come, but at least when I’m feeling upheaved (shush now, that’s totally a word) I’ll know what it is that I’m straying away from. And I’m going to stop trying to figure everything out. That’s my resolution for 2016.