A course more promising
Than a wild dedication of yourselves
To unpathed waters, undreamed shores; most certain,
To miseries enough: no hope to help you;
But, as you shake off one, to take another:
Nothing so certain as your anchors; who
Do their best office, if they can but stay you
Where you’ll be loth to be: besides, you know,
Prosperity’s the very bond of love,
Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together
Affliction alters. (“Winter’s Tale” Shakespeare)
Here it comes, this uncertain and unprecedented and unpredictable 2017, all full of itself, like a crowing Rooster strutting aloft while dawn brightens behind the blue. New Year’s Eve is bursting with the inevitable questions: What do you hope for? What dream will you scratch out on your imaginary pad as the ball drops? 10, 9, 8, 7… What “undreamed shores” are irrepressible? 6, 5, 4… What propels you to live with your soul force? 3, 2, 1… 2017 screams out: Dare it; I dare you.
Me? As we cross the threshold from one year to the next, I hope to pay better attention to life’s pedestrian moments. Notice the small bridges we cross, those nondescript paths we stroll, the singular sensations that leave only a fleeting flicker. I crave that pointed attention. To notice the red in the monotone. To distinguish the trill in the silence. To investigate the crack on the surface.
My hope for friends and family and peoples around the earth? May 2017 open windows into your inner world and expand back out into the shared space we inhabit to greater health and prosperity; and as we spin round and round this tiny globe, charting through “unpathed waters” may we cross into the future with Hope. We all deserve that much, at the very least.
Until then, xxoo,
Nine Cent Girl