Using the Old Year to Break New Ground

The wisdom of taking a moment to sit with our bruises and unwanted life lessons

Much has been said, by myself and others, about how challenging the year 2024 has been. I don’t know many people who have not had their socks rocked by the reckoning (or should I say the fuckening) that has been part and parcel of the last twelve months. The theme of 2024 seems to have been one of testing the hell out of our mettle and ability to hold up under unforeseen losses and pressures. The bad news is that it really did suck for many or most of us. The good news is that, as I write this and you read this, we’re still standing. Our minds are still working, our lungs are still breathing and, even if things are not perfect, we’re still holding within us the spark of hope and possibility of better days ahead.

Being happy and making the most of a new year is an awesome responsibility. Blessings, just like challenges, often hit us in a way that we could never have foreseen. This year, the people of Western NC learned that our dependence on the whims of a volatile planet can rain devastation on those who had no reason to expect it, who did not deserve it, and result in the most tragic and trying of circumstances. Others all over the globe have been rendered near-numb by losses, health challenges, financial upheaval, and all manner of cosmic and political tomfuckery. If there is anything we were called to learn, it is this: We must learn to rest in pre-emptive acceptance of the unexpected. If life has taught us anything in the last year, or the last ten years, it is that we are not always in control of what happens to us, as individuals or as a society. Our vote and activism does not ensure a national trajectory that is friendly to us. Accepting the truth that we can’t buttress our lives against misfortune is contrary to the sense of permanence and safety that our human egos seek. Living in these times calls us to a courage and spiritual long-view of life that we don’t always feel strong enough for. Collapse is easy. Hope is hard. This year I have bounced back and forth between these two states of being fast enough to give myself whiplash.