The turning of the year always puts me in a reflective mood. It’s a time to think about what I might wish to change or preserve, to strengthen or finally let go.
I set goals, but these days they aren’t so much things I want to do as ways I want to be or feel â the shape of my life for the coming year. It turns out this is more useful for me: things tend to happen in relation to the shape of life. Things fit or they don’t. If I know what I’d like the shape of my life to be, it’s easier to tell when I want to encourage a thing to continue, or whether to let it go. It’s one thing to say, “I’m going to finish a novel this year.” It’s another thing entirely to say, “I’m going to feel that I’m always being the best writer I can be.” The former requires word count, desk time, rigorous attention to craft. The latter requires all of that as well as being open to the idea that finishing the novel might not be the best use of the writer’s time.
It’s a tricky exercise. Goals untethered to vision are less meaningful. Vision without goals is less productive. And so on I go, seeking balance. Growth and peace; comfort and adventure; still moments and big life; clarity and fearlessness; to be, or at least to act as if.
It’s been both a good year and a hard one. Tonight Nicola and I will drink champagne (Thierry Triolet, our new favorite) and talk about the old year and the new. We’re hoping for more good and less hard in 2006, but I expect we’ll take whatever we get and squeeze as much out of it as we can.
Thanks to everyone who visits the virtual pub for a pint every now and then. I value your company, whether you stop to chat or just to listen. My very best to you all. See you again in the new year.