Endless acres of possibility. A pale parabola of joy, as a pretentiously esoteric Wodehousian poet once said. Open space like you wouldn’t believe, and have no idea how to grasp in your two hands. The blackest, blankest of slates. White paper so empty you’re afraid to start writing. Don’t be afraid.
“I love it as it is, because it is a story, and it isn’t stuck in one place. It is full of conflict and darkness like every good story. And like every good story, there will be an ending. I love the world as it is, because I love what it will be.”
Join me as I plan to love, use, fill, and let go of this year. Every single day of it.
I want to learn iceskating and chin-ups
I want to improve my French, and dancing.
I want to tackle scheduling and logging of regular duties, checks, and maintenance at work
And organize my car so that it's full of cool things not junk
I want to cook bubble-and-squeak, and rumbledethump
I want to Break the Hold of the Internet in my life, and read the Digital Minimalist
I want to write sonnets, and a novelette
Get whiter teeth
Understand hockey better
Travel somewhere: Quebec? Scotland? Portland? Oxford?
Get my own healthcare (cringes)
Read 52 books
YWA 30-days-of-yoga in January AND keep up the gym
I wrestled with whether to start brand-new notebooks for the start of the year, or to keep using my half-filled ones. But I couldn't quite bear to start a brand new Year And Decade without starting new ones. I got a splendid planner and a beautiful journal for Christmas, and came across an empty decomposition notebook (I keep a stash) while I was cleaning my room in preparation for the new year.
I'm extremely excited about the bookstacks I'll be tackling this year. I read and listened to so many last year that I'm quite primed to keep up the statistics. I've already written pages of "books to read in 2020" and enjoyed a good time pulling favorite or promising volumes from my own shelves to go into the stack by my bed. It will at least stimulate my first quarter's reading, as having a pleasant book at hand practically dispenses with the quandary of what to read next.
I am brainstorming ways to limit my connection with the perfidious power of the internet. The lies of instant-gratification, the constant draw of superficial seen-ness, and the insidious increase of short attention-spans. The difficulty really arises with the fact that I cannot deny this electronic age (nor would I wish to turn back the time and lose all the good in our advancements). And the truth is that every age has had its own push for Hurry, for Busy, for Distraction. Blaise Pascal (from the early 17th century, you will recall), would tell you that the unhappiness of man arises from this--the pursuit of busy excitement and distraction, rather than rest.
In this day, where we connect with beloved friends and family over social media, and job communication is almost exclusively device-to-device, there's no chucking the whole thing. And so it's baby-steps: no Instagram before yoga perhaps. Or only checking my email on my laptop, rather than my phone. As with many things, less is more. The more time away from the draw and flicker of the screen, the more restful it is to curl up with a book. Or sit on the floor, sorting projects. Or lay on top of my bed, staring at the ceiling and letting my thoughts drift slowly.
Little by little perhaps, we can win our lives back so that we don't feel quite at the mercy of our own inventions and modern inconveniences. A life pervaded with books and puzzles, walks and hikes, work and sleep, conversations and stillness. Join me on that journey: move the legs, calm the mind; breathe deep, read long, and sleep hard.
I feel the lapse of those things that are true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable... those things worthy of praise. I need more of those to pervade my mind and thoughts. I need more fodder of the good and wholesome, real and slow-moving variety; so that when stillness comes, it feels like peace like a river... and not a lurking shadow.
Can we slow our steps, and rest our eyes. Can we recall the truths and promises that our hearts know. Can we remind our weary body and mind of what we have forgotten. Can we allow the pain and wounds of last year to be rinsed clean, so that we can Taste and See that the Lord is Good? Once Again. Can we reach out for the scarred hand, held out to us, leading the way up a new mountain, this year? And at night, can we not stretch out on the uneven ground that is this mortal coil, rest our head on a backpack filled with memories, lessons, losses, and strengths. And, because we know the Divine Watchman, lay without fear, gazing at the myriad of stars shining above us. And soon, very soon perhaps, close our eyes, in Trust.
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| 2019 |
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| 2020 |
I wrestled with whether to start brand-new notebooks for the start of the year, or to keep using my half-filled ones. But I couldn't quite bear to start a brand new Year And Decade without starting new ones. I got a splendid planner and a beautiful journal for Christmas, and came across an empty decomposition notebook (I keep a stash) while I was cleaning my room in preparation for the new year.
I'm extremely excited about the bookstacks I'll be tackling this year. I read and listened to so many last year that I'm quite primed to keep up the statistics. I've already written pages of "books to read in 2020" and enjoyed a good time pulling favorite or promising volumes from my own shelves to go into the stack by my bed. It will at least stimulate my first quarter's reading, as having a pleasant book at hand practically dispenses with the quandary of what to read next.
I am brainstorming ways to limit my connection with the perfidious power of the internet. The lies of instant-gratification, the constant draw of superficial seen-ness, and the insidious increase of short attention-spans. The difficulty really arises with the fact that I cannot deny this electronic age (nor would I wish to turn back the time and lose all the good in our advancements). And the truth is that every age has had its own push for Hurry, for Busy, for Distraction. Blaise Pascal (from the early 17th century, you will recall), would tell you that the unhappiness of man arises from this--the pursuit of busy excitement and distraction, rather than rest.
In this day, where we connect with beloved friends and family over social media, and job communication is almost exclusively device-to-device, there's no chucking the whole thing. And so it's baby-steps: no Instagram before yoga perhaps. Or only checking my email on my laptop, rather than my phone. As with many things, less is more. The more time away from the draw and flicker of the screen, the more restful it is to curl up with a book. Or sit on the floor, sorting projects. Or lay on top of my bed, staring at the ceiling and letting my thoughts drift slowly.
Little by little perhaps, we can win our lives back so that we don't feel quite at the mercy of our own inventions and modern inconveniences. A life pervaded with books and puzzles, walks and hikes, work and sleep, conversations and stillness. Join me on that journey: move the legs, calm the mind; breathe deep, read long, and sleep hard.
I feel the lapse of those things that are true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable... those things worthy of praise. I need more of those to pervade my mind and thoughts. I need more fodder of the good and wholesome, real and slow-moving variety; so that when stillness comes, it feels like peace like a river... and not a lurking shadow.
Can we slow our steps, and rest our eyes. Can we recall the truths and promises that our hearts know. Can we remind our weary body and mind of what we have forgotten. Can we allow the pain and wounds of last year to be rinsed clean, so that we can Taste and See that the Lord is Good? Once Again. Can we reach out for the scarred hand, held out to us, leading the way up a new mountain, this year? And at night, can we not stretch out on the uneven ground that is this mortal coil, rest our head on a backpack filled with memories, lessons, losses, and strengths. And, because we know the Divine Watchman, lay without fear, gazing at the myriad of stars shining above us. And soon, very soon perhaps, close our eyes, in Trust.
1 comment:
Yes. Beauty here, and so much truth. Thank you always for weaving the song into words.
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