28 January 2016


January is drawing to a close and while time seems to have slipped through my fingers, this has also been one of the longest months I can remember.

The new year started off with a dance party in the den with my nephew and nieces, dinner on our traditional Spode holiday plates, and a weekend hike at High Falls with my sister and her family.  Dave and I attempted to call each other at our respective midnight hours and managed to get in a few words before turning into our respective time zones.

This has been the month of letting go...of intentions, of expectations, of want-to-dos and should-dos.  This is the month that has indicated what kind of year 2016 might be...one where I might need to surrender a bit more rather than control.  One where the wild ride of transitions continues and I hang on to the safety bar in my roller coaster car for dear life.

This will also be the year of big shifts in terms of how I want to approach that never-ending ride of ups and downs.  Last year, I spent a good deal of time steeped in the heaviness of longing for some-kind-of-unidentified-something-else.  This year, I am hoping to be content in the here-and-now of what is right in front of me.  To focus on maintaining precious connections over many miles via the wonders of technology and to treat myself with the gifts of love, patience, and respect...as all people deserve.

It is the year that deserves some serious thought as as things shift...personally and professionally...thoughts that demand intention, mindfulness, and lots of writing in journals.

January has been hard as in the letting go I've felt as though parts of me are slipping away.  More than anything, my greatest fear has revolved around disappearing and not being seen.  I've felt like a ghost in many respects as I move further from how I used to identify myself in terms of worthiness and success and into that nebulous in-between space of redefining what those two terms mean.

But, then again, maybe disappearing for a little bit isn't the worst thing in the world.  Disappearing can mean giving myself the time to sort out the questions, to feel into what is coming next, and to have that quiet time necessary to prepare my body, heart, and soul for what is coming down the tracks.

In the meantime, I'm trying to recognize those tiny moments each day where sadness isn't the emotion that takes centre stage.  To find comfort in the little things.  To be genuinely grateful for all of the amazing things I do have.  To know that nothing is permanent, even these feelings...