The Things We Carry Through

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I do very little calendaring on paper anymore.  Google calendar is so much more convenient in coordinating all the different bits of my life that there's no need for me to order a fresh black day planner as the year winds down.

Nonetheless, maybe just as habit, New Year's tends to be a time when I go out and buy a new notebook to carry.  I use it as a place to jot down ideas or smart things I hear or just...well, all the stuff that isn't quite as finite as a calendar with specific dates and times.

And every year, before I throw the old notebook away to replace it with the new, I always go through and clip out or rewrite the bits I'm not done with yet--some writing ideas that haven't been explored yet, bits of poems and flow charts, a list of our chickens, a list of my running PR's....

As I was doing so this year, it occurred to me that the fascinating part of this isn't the new book, it's the things I paste in out of the old book.  

New Year's is an arbitrary day, but most of us assign a lot of meaning to it.  On one side the excess and togetherness of the holidays, on the other the quiet solitude of deep winter.  On one side who we were, on the other who we want to be.  At the same time, I think we all know it's a bit silly--this idea of a completely fresh slate--because no one really can start completely over again.

We can buy a clean notebook, but there are still some unfinished thoughts and dreams and demons that will need to be memorialized in it before the clock even strikes midnight.  There are always things that carry through.

In that frame of mind, I keep trying to think if I should make a New Year's resolution this year.  I have goals, for sure--hopes, most certainly.  But resolutions are proving to be much harder to put into words.

All I can say is that I feel like whatever resolutions I want to make are encapsulated in the last few lines of this Kate DiCamillo poem, which is one of the bits that's been clipped over from notebook to notebook for several years now.  I have to think maybe I've been saving it for a year when my head is in the right place to work with it.

Hard to bless
ourselves.
Harder
to let ourselves
be blessed.

Still.
All this light.

Coming down.

Wishing you all the happiest of new years!