another year is going and another one is starting. however, depending on which calender is being referred you may still be in the old pools of days- like a puddle, collected drops of rain, dew, from the sky, now on the ground. and then it will dry up when the sun comes out (though it seems highly unlikely at the moment, thanks to damp winter), floating till the next chance it finds to descend down- whether it may be a sweet drink for a thirsty plant or another drop from the bucket of soggy winter sky.
however, one must keep in mind that even a simple water drop can be transformed into something magial- like the new stream that just came up one day in the cracken edge (the back hill from small wee house of ours in uk). no one knows where it came from- but it's quite busy one, alive and fresh- just starting to carve out its own path along the soft earth and the hard rocks that creates memorable silhouette of the rocky teeth of cracken edge (which is so different from all the other hills nearby: southhead, eccle's pike, they are all very round. even in jacob's ladder, where the mysterious rock animals live, breathing very slowly, through decades, years, centuries).
in a weird sense, it was funny to send off an old year- minnows were over at good friends' place, warm with fire in hearth, blazing oven turning out blistered pizza dough with the scent of summer days- of fragrant, sweet tomatoes and sharp salty edge of olives. even with the tang of the green grass of the long sunshine (and even longer shadows) that cuts through the richness of goat cheese (though the lady finds it a bit too sharp, haha, great, more for us!) the night was already deep when we started to walk to their house- and the night was still long when we returned, bit after the pumpkin hour. nothing really have changed. but then everything has been changing, ever so slightly. as the moon shone on the other side of the sky, hardly visible yet highly perceptible. bellies was full of love and generosity. as steps became a bit more erratic and joyous, yet heavy- heading towards warm basket, another night of rest in shared company, somewhere in the middle, the new year arrived.
what would i wish for this new year? what shall i seek for? shall i embark on an adventure? on quest for rich?
i cant decide what i would like. i suppose that also may indicate i am content. perhaps it is the very ability to find contentment that keeps the years connected, seamless, even with the bits of grind and bumps- i thought of my wee brother, a pile of grey ashes, living through the lives of others as the wind tickled my ears, as it always will, especially in a dramatic night where we, as a collective population, passes by another milestone.
good bye, old year. hello, new year. shall we go? it's always exciting to step onto a new page. what shall i remember, what shall i savour. what would i find and what could i gather. perhaps a bit less rain will do the trick, but as long as i have a warm dry basket, perhaps i wont mind so much.