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The Wham (36" x 23")

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On the new year

“Can’t I just focus on today?” asked rabbit. “A whole year seems like a lot.”

Bear smiled. “I think you’re beginning to understand,” she said.

Thoughts while making
After the sweet taste of Martinelli’s was gone, and the acrid smell of confetti poppers had dissipated, and all the pots and pans and wooden spatulas we’d banged to scare away the evil spirits were safely back in the cupboards, and Dick Clark had counted us down, we’d tuck into our beds “to sleep, perchance to dream.”

As a kid, New Year’s was staying up late, waking up to the Rose Parade, endless sheets of Chex mix baking in the oven, and bowl games. I don’t remember thinking about another trip around the sun, time being marked, opportunities for resets and reimaginings, or even resolutions. The idea of intentions was decades away.

In high school, I’d drive to a cliff overlooking La Jolla Shores. I’d light a single candle. Review the year. Decide whether – on balance – the past justified stepping into the future or off the edge. It was admittedly moody and appropriately 80s with a soundtrack of The Cure and Joy Division thrown in for good measure.

While I’ve left the teen dramatics long behind, I’m still not convinced by the “new” year. On the one hand, it feels like an arbitrary date plunked down in the dark of winter; one that is filled with expectations, one that doesn’t care where you may actually be in your own trip. “Celebrate me,” it demands. “Judge yourself,” it whispers.

On the other hand, it’s a unifier, an opportunity. “Come together,” it invites. “Because we’re all in this,” it explains. “And time does not stop: you too will pass,” it says frankly. “So how can I help you become?” it gently asks. I prefer this hand. And, in the end, it’s just a day. There are many others.

What can I do to help you become?