An ode to 2020…


2020 gets some pretty rotten press, and I’m not here to add to it. ⠀

This year has held loss, tragedy, fear, illness, pain, hollowness, tears, sadness, anger, and despair…both personal and global.⠀


This year has held beauty, healing, connection, intimacy, deeper understanding, adventure, expansion, and magic as well. ⠀

Years aren’t evil. Bad things aren’t tied to a calendar. WE…humans…created the system by which we measure time. It’s not a universal construct. The end of 2020 promises nothing but a new page in our planner and a new number next to our signatures. ⠀

Rushing time gives me the willies. We’re afraid to die, but want to speed through a year, sure the shift from 2020 to 2021 will bring more goodness? The only thing it’s guaranteed to bring is the nearness of our own end. ⠀

(But this is taking a turn I hadn’t anticipated, though I’m going to post it anyway, even knowing it’s fodder for those of you who already think I’m hatefully dark.)⠀


2020, you’re going out as the year…⠀

Of ducks. ⠀
Of drawing inward. ⠀
Or spiritual restoration. ⠀
Of deeper intimacy. ⠀
Of journaling. ⠀
Of confronting childhood programming. ⠀
Of ditching fear. ⠀
Of beautiful friendships, new and old. ⠀
Of new paths. ⠀
Of self-trust. ⠀
Of parenting my inner child. ⠀
Of rest and recovery. ⠀
Of dirt road miles. ⠀
Of Spotify playlists. ⠀
Of finding my voice. ⠀
Of saying “no.”⠀
Of saying “yes.”⠀
Of walking away. ⠀
Of holding on. ⠀
Of endless Progressive Rummy. ⠀
Of peppermint and thieves essential oil. ⠀
Of vitamin D. ⠀
Of nature walks. ⠀
Of sacred rooting. ⠀
Of better routines. ⠀
Of metamorphosis. ⠀
Of introversion. ⠀
Of the hot tub. ⠀
Of dreaming. ⠀
Of editing. ⠀
Of wishing time would slow down. ⠀

If it was ONLY me, and I could spare everyone else of reliving their respective pain, I’d rewind and play it again. Because, as a heart type, 2020 brought so many reminders that I’m alive and my heart beats and my feelings exist. And call me dark, but I live for that magic.

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