December 2021 is far different, in far many ways, than was December 2020.
A year ago I was mired in deep snow, depending upon Moon Bug to get on or off this mountain. Today, the Jeep sits in the driveway, the world the color of my dog; mostly gold with patches of white. The old boy is hard to see at dusk and dawn as such. Addled as he is, he never goes out alone anymore. I once lost a dog to a mountain lion, a similarly abled dog, and I believe they sense such shifts in animal stability.
A year ago I was sitting here, deep in both snow and internal conflict. Fully employed for thirteen years in a job that gave me stomach aches. Still gives me stomach aches when I discuss it in consulting interviews. I sat here on someone else’s furniture, sleeping in someone else’s bed, sort of sliding into an existence as a place to be, but abstracted from being my own.
I am nesting this year. With help from a friend there are now twenty five plants in here with me. There is furniture, wall hangings, art work, arrangements, a friend’s gong, all of my choosing. There is a home here now, my home, shaped, molded, and nestled into the winter experience I wish to experience, not just a place to be. A place to think and plan just what might come next year.
May your year end well for you. May you map out what you wish for the next year. May you be so lucky to experience something that requires no map; you only need a map if you are lost or do not know where you are going, after all.