We all know 2021 has been another hard year. Perhaps not as hard as the year before (for me personally), but hard nonetheless.
But I don’t want to focus on that. Instead, I’d rather look at some of the good things that have happened over the past year, which I’m profoundly grateful for:
- My poetry collection, Twelve: Poems Inspired by the Brothers Grimm Fairy Tale, received second place in the Elgin Awards — an honor I never expected.
- I gifted myself a private writing retreat, which rejuvenated and inspired me. I was even able to complete a poetry manuscript that I’m currently sending out and hope will find a home in the new year.
- I took a Game Writing Master Class with Susan O. Connor, a brilliant writer who has been working in the games.
- I’ve had a few poems published this year (despite not being terribly active in submitting), including:
I did take a few trips this year both for work and to visit family. I’m grateful for all the small escapes, and for the chances to connect with people I care about.
I’ve been thinking about what kinds of goals that I want to set for the new year — and I think I’ve decided that I don’t want to bother with any of that (at least not publicly).
Don’t get me wrong. I have plenty of things I want to achieve and projects that I want to accomplish. But the idea of looking ahead over the full length of this year and plan it all out… just seems overwhelming.
I have no idea if 2022 is going to be. I don’t know if it is going to be any better than the last two years. (I certainly hope it is.) I don’t know how my life is going to shift of change from one month to the next. I don’t know how I’m going to change.
Life feels like I’m floating on choppy seas right now — and I don’t know if it’s because the storm is passing or the storm is rolling in.
All I can think about or focus on at the moment is what is right in front of me — today’s goal, this week’s project. As far as I can think ahead is a month.
I have dreams for where I want to be in a year or five, but they feel very fragile. Sharing them with the outside world might break them. So, I’m holding them close to my chest to protect and nurturing them. Give the little sprouts room to seek the sunlight and grow.
Am I optimistic about the coming year? The world turns, and we roll along with it. Day to nigh to day to night. Time passes, and days flow together in a panoply of moments.
Today is another day. I am living it. My breath comes in and then flows out. I create things, or I don’t
Tomorrow, I will do the same. And the day after that. I create things, or I don’t.
I keep breathing, and that is a kind of optimism.