I am an East-West amalgamation, so am entirely used to having two sets of New Years. The first one was spent with candlelight and prayers to Avalokiteshvara, the Buddha of Compassion. It was a quiet and moving way to usher in 2012. The full focus of resolutions were aimed at my mind: this year, I will try to deepen my meditation practice, I will try to dislodge negative habits of mind, and start to sees others as supremely important.
Earlier this week, I could sense another beginning about to hit.
It was subconscious at first, the sudden need to fill the flat with fresh flowers. A desire to bring spring into my world, in the midst of tundra Maine and frigid January. The lunar new year means misty mornings in a silent city as everyone finally gets home, gets feasting, gives red packets, sets off firecrackers and smiles. It means the moisture wrapping its fingers around the bulbs of spring.
It means space, breath, pause.
I celebrate it by bringing the writer out of the closet. She was starting to get dusty in there. The move from my hermit cabin in the woods to citylife in September ushered in a lot of work, and meetings, and deadlines. And the writing screeched to a halt.
Fortunately, the scent from a newly-bought bunch of white lillies has awoken the seasonal mind-shift. The letting go of raggy old skin and pulling on new clothes. Hope and conspiring and creating.
So here's the resolution: A blog a week, at the very minimum. It's not a lot to ask, and it's a weekly reminder that the magic of writing is not in sitting around and feeling bad about not doing it, but plugging away as the music plays and the fingers take on this wonderful dance and I can just sit back and smile.
How will you celebrate the dragon?
(Photo credit: By Sky dancer 2000 via Wikimedia Commons)