A break in the rain this the last campervan morning of 2022. However it is in fact still on the air, though pretty vague. The wind is still here, gusting and blowing, creating the soundtrack of the last morning of the year. Two crows chat and flit between the oak and the ash, hanging on for grim death, each of the trees creaking and bending at the will of the wind and the birds having to release their grip. The cloud once more solid, dark and threatening. A far off cockerel sounds off. It’s a murky, dark, damp morning. Rain sits everywhere, it’s not cold at all, the wind gives the temperature a wee bite, but once again unseasonably warm. The oak has finally shed the last of her leaves and we are on the doorstep of 2023, the world about to step into another year. It’s been a tricky one for many, a difficult one for some and almost impossible for a few. As I sit here under the oak, I am reflecting on thresholds, as we are about to step over into 2023. Alfred Lord Tennyson talks of the threshold of the new year :
“ Hope
Smiles from the threshold of the year to come,
Whispering 'it will be happier'... “
No resolutions as usual to herald 2023, just a word for the new year. A word to guide and drive thoughts, opportunities, friendships, work and life. My word for 2023 is ‘Hope’.
“ Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.”
Emily Dickinson.
The sort of hope that underpins and enforces actions and energy, not one of prose and armchair philosophy. The sort of hope that embraces the unknown and allows you, as Solnit writes :
“ To give yourself to the future - and that commitment to the future is what makes the present inhabitable.”
So here is a commitment to 2023 and as I sit here the best of wishes to you all. Lovely days people.
“Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced”.
James Baldwin.
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