2021

I realize as I'm finally writing this, that it's already January in parts of Australia. But however much I love that end-of-year time of reflection, the rest of life never seems to stop either; and this year, along with my post-Christmas fatigue I had a very messy house, and a looong grocery list to deal with when I got off of work.

So here I am, it's not too late. I've been thinking and jotting down notes about the years past and ahead; I have scribbled pages in my full journals, and set out bright new ones to start fresh. I have the usual interplay of shining optimism and the deep knowledge that life never goes as planned. My scattered and tired self dearly loves a new start, a blank slate, a spring-board for motivation; and I will use them to the full! And I know too that with every year there is a certainty of sadness, heaviness, confusion; that my anxiety and depression, though better tamed, will still have to be acknowledged and navigated.

What then? I must create for myself what I most want to offer others: a place to come back to, with lighted windows and full acceptance. This has many corollaries, and is all interwoven with the year I've just had, and what I see as growths and lessons and themes of 2021.

For one thing, when I moved into my first real home of my own this year, I wanted this house to be a reflection of that very thing. So that along with my eclectic style and varied taste, I hoped it would reflect my heart for welcome and comfort and belonging. That's why I call it The Luminary. I want its warm, welcoming light to glow through every window and chink, brightening your nights and lighting the way home.

And I set up a welcome sign in the Conservatory, as I call it, that is a bit lengthy for a welcome sign and so I expect many miss it. But I want somehow to impress it upon those entering. this is my wish for you

You are welcome here
In all your wholeness
And all your frailty
The secrets you carry
And the burdens you bear
Your hopes and your fears
Your light and your darkness
Do not need to be known by me
To enter my acceptance
Be at home
May my wholeness
And my brokenness
Assure you
You are not alone
My spirit recognizes
The spirit in you
Come as you are 

At the beginning of this year, my resolutions were more like my notebook lists: some things I want to get to, a few things to prioritize, new ways of looking at things. Most of them I only did partially, as is often the case. Looking back, I'm not sorry for what I put on the list, or what I did or didn't do. Life is full, and it changes drastically, and that's exactly where growth comes in. Sure, in a perfect world I'd write more regularly, or never miss a yoga session, but then I wouldn't have dreamed of all the many things I did get to do in the past year!

One thing I did say last New Years, was that I wanted to show up with soul in 2021. I think what I meant by that was a sort of whole-heartedness, to show up as myself, my whole self, serious and intent, funny and extra. To not let my stunt-double take over, as someone cleverly put it. And I think, of all the things in that blogpost, in those scribbled journals, in my New Years Ramblings... I think that was the most profound, and it certainly was an area that I've put a lot of thought, care, and soul into this year.

I didn't even think of it as my official 'word of the year' or give it much direct thought. But that concept seems to have shaped so many things throughout my year, taking many forms and words, like wholeness, and belonging. Words and ideas that have become overarching themes, concepts that became concrete decisions that have shifted my entire life.

One of the first and most substantial is what you might call the Anti-Waiting or the End of In-Between. In February of this year I was able to get away for a bit, knowing that I needed to rethink my life a little. My work wasn't going to be sustainable long-term, and I had come to a stage where I felt like what's next? And what I realized as I thought this through was that I wanted to put down some roots. I didn't want to live in a place, work in a place, where there would be a constant what's-next, a job that I constantly needed a vacation from, a living situation that felt temporary. I made the conscious decision to stop waiting for the life that I most wanted. Not expecting to acquire everything I most want, but wanting my very life to cultivate all that is most important to me. And to those who know me, it won't be surprising that to have my own home was a concrete step toward that. I wanted to plant perennials, and have room to do yoga in, a house in which I could entertain guests, or have an hour of silence, or dance to jazz at dusk, or make pancakes in the middle of the night.

And I, more fortunate that many, found that opportunity when I looked for it. Most of you already know this story, of moving back to small-town Minnesota, to this old house that I loved, but had never had to myself before. An opportunity to rent from my own parents (the best of several worlds) and make it my very own place of solace and inspiration, deep color, numerous plants, busy kitchen, sunny yoga-room, full library, and welcoming couches.

It's a long-term commitment of course, deciding to live into the person you want to be. It will have its growth-spurts and set-backs, but it's a journey worth taking. It's choosing a childhood dream to work on, or taking yourself to the movies. It's calculating what you'll need to make that Europe trip happen, and working on that high-interest savings account to make it possible. It's using your money on things that matter, saying no to things that have become an unnecessary burden. It's working somewhere with ethics you're proud of, and making time for hobbies that make the world a better place. 

And it's committing to keep working on yourself too. How can I be kinder, more compassionate, a better listener? How have my habits and the worlds systems hurt others? How can I fight against the racism and discrimination in myself as well as around me? What are ways I can show more grace, let go of resentments, allow for changes, look for growth?

It really became a way to look at and almost quantify what is most important to me, what I want out of life. I spent a lot of time at the beginning of the year trying to sort out what Brene Brown calls core values. And because I have a value-heavy, wordy, busy mind, it was hard to pin it down. Looking back over my scribbled pages of notes, I see a few that I circled: connection, meaning, home. But I think a year full of changes has done what journaling could not. I've zeroed in on a few things, rich with meaning, that I want to carry forward with me into the years ahead. And they're not tidy, equal, or the same part of speech. It's more like a Word, a Lesson, and a Quest.

Wholeness is...

showing up as your whole self

not allowing people's expectations or assumptions to keep you small

working to make your life reflect your values

not hiding from joy or pain

repairing brokenness

healing the heaviness that comes from living in this broken world

bringing the feeling of wholeness to those feeling shattered

giving grace to every part of you, flaws and all

giving grace to every part of them, flaws and all  

 

I only thought of this next as a lesson when Herbity Productions asked what lesson did you learn in 2021? and I immediately tried to think how to quantify this concept in one sentence. I was, of course, unsuccessful, and have transferred here in order to explore it further. 

In its most transformative moments this summer, it confronted me more like a challenge, requiring me to step out boldly and accept it. At the same time it felt like a universal truth, something that was either glaringly obvious, or possibly sacrilegious? Some things are so deeply ingrained in us that it takes some strange years, long walks, and possibly some store-bought-serotonin, to untangle.

I belong to myself before I belong to anything or anyone else

I do, and I must. 

And belonging to yourself can sometimes leave you feeling alone in the wilderness. But it is also a significant step in releasing you from outside expectation, because they don't own your belonging. You do.

Later this year I read Brene Brown's Braving the Wilderness and found it just resonating with so many things I've been processing for years. She starts off by quoting the surprising and compelling words of Maya Angelou, "You are only free when you realize you belong no place - you belong every place - no place at all. The price is high. The reward is great."

I feel like I've been discovering this my whole life, in different layers. And I am excited that this new layer surrounding my belonging can help me bring that wholeness to the quiet moments and personal decisions of my life, and to pouring life into those broken and alone, and to empowering others' strongest, brightest selves.

I'm not sure whether this last is an Ultimate Quest, or an Eternal Side-Quest. It's the kind that finds you, without you seeking it out. And for me this year, it's just something that I've realized about one of the deep parts of me. Sometimes a moment of clarity will come in a triggered, painful moment; and you realize just how important that part of your life, yourself, is to you.

"because of you I felt less alone"

That's what I want my legacy to be, the atmosphere I bring, the lingering scent I leave. Yes, I want to be kind and smell nice, there are innumerable other things I wish to do and be. But if I help people feel less alone throughout my life, then I shall call it a success. 

Here's to continuing to cultivate that in the New Year and beyond...

Cheers

Stay tuned as I call in the New Year, and share my 2022 word of the year that kinda scares me