New year, new bliss

Just because we mess up doesn’t mean all the lessons we learned are undone. Healing can be imperfect. Jonathan Van Ness

2021 had the promise of a charred battlefield. We looked over the ruins of our landscape and said, well surely we can do better next year. Our intentional distance isolated us, and we charged into this year eager to make up for lost time. I found myself running with frenzy into projects, time-sucking perfection forcing my brain to function mercilessly, rather than frolic.

We dipped our toes back into socialization - up close, personal, and without virtual meetings' conveniently allowing an emergency exit. We allowed the grace of stumbling through these interactions, truly just happy to see each other, dine indoors, and reveal our noses to strangers - if only for a moment. We celebrated for all we missed.

We grew perspective. Virtual connection transitioned from novelty to convention. Testing, from nasal intrusion to prerequisite for gathering. News cycles fluctuated, but our nerves no longer experience seasickness.

Now we are in the throes of a variant that leaves us retracing our steps, wiser, battle-hardened.

Next year, we may see true transformation. When our health climate shows a critical mass of biological defense, what then? We will answer questions on how we organize our lives in a world that has partially healed, partially remained defiant. Who gets to experience what, and why?

I aspire to move slowly, think deeply, and act deliberately. Each day, I aspire to find light in a lessons or gratitude. And to write monthly on this space with reflections and photos I've captured.