Auld Lang Syne

2017 was a long year. In my perception, at least, it seemed to stretch on and on. When I think about where I was, what I was doing, and how life looked at the start of 2017, the memories seem to belong to another, distant lifetime.

It wasn't only that the time seemed to pass slowly; a lot happened during this year. Not in terms of monumental, life-changing, world-altering events, really - although there has been plenty of turmoil in our world lately (not just this year) - but rather in the commonplace occurrences of everyday life. It wasn't that many things happened to me, but that many things happened for me.

This year was a fight. It was not a particularly hard one - just a long one. While things did not always flow smoothly, they still flowed; things happened, and much was accomplished - but slowly, laboriously. The fight was not one of strength, but of endurance. It was a year-long battle, tackled deliberately, with determination and perseverance, moment by moment. It was taking life one step at a time; putting one foot in front of the other.

And with each incremental, trudging step, a journey was made. After all, in the wise words of Lao Tzu,

 "The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single

step."

Finally, here we are - December 31st, 2017 - with but a single step to go. Our 365-day journey is about to come to an end. We each have fought our own battles, marked our own paces. We have reached the end of this year, ready to begin again in the morning.

Yet, as we stand here, at the end of this journey - on the other side of the fight - something has changed; something feels different than it did at the start, before that first step. It seems that we are not quite the same as when we started. The journey has changed us, for better or worse.
 
Perhaps, we are weary from the journey; bruised and scarred from the fight.

Perhaps, we are entering the new year a little more broken, and a little more wary, than we were before.

Perhaps, we leave this year behind with tinges of sorrow and grief, mourning the pieces of the past that we cannot reclaim.

"We two have run about the slopes,

and picked the daisies fine;

But we've wandered many a weary foot,

since auld lang syne."

Maybe the arduous journey has taken a toll. Even so, my sincere hope is that, where life has taken, it has also given.

Hopefully, the challenges of this year have made us mightier, as we bravely rose to meet them and found that, despite our fears, we could overcome.

Hopefully, the drawn-out nature of this year's challenges has given us the gift of endurance, emboldening us with newfound tenacity and the will to fight, as we refused to relent in the face of difficulty.

Hopefully - somewhere within the moments, the footsteps, the lengthy days of 2017 - we have learned to never give up.

This year was long. It was challenging. But I won't forget what it has taught me. It has encouraged me to endure and strengthened me within.

And, on the eve of the new year - January 1st, 2018 - I not only look back with a sense of (weariness and) accomplishment, but I look forward with hope.

Here's to living another year of hard, beautiful life.

Here's to never giving up.

And here's to 2018.

"For auld lang syne, my dear,

for auld lang syne,

we'll take a cup of kindness yet,

for auld lang syne."

Happy New Year!

-R

Beyond the Backyard

Sometimes

I cry

Because

I am terrified 

And on my own

And not sure

                    Where to go

                              What to do

                                         Who to be

             How to get there

But sometimes

I also smile

Because this is life

And I am living

And terrified

And on my own

And that excites me

Because this is an adventure

That is hard

                                                                    and

                                                      beautiful

                                                   and

                                    

                                                        real

                                    

                                                                    and

I am 

                                                                   

                                                                       not 

                                                                   alone.

This Old House

This is the tale of brokenness made whole.

We are rooms in a mansion;

each one, a chamber of the heart.

Our innermost beings house great halls and vast parlors,
splendorous bedrooms and towering balconies;

convivial kitchens and tables for dining,

studies and gardens and sunrooms, for shining;

a host of stained glass and spiraling staircases;

all of our deep and beautiful places.

We waltz through our ballrooms

and in tea rooms, delight;

we glow near the windows that stream in sweet sunlight;

we wander the halls,

in wonder and awe -

all is lovely -

with each placement of the feet, each tip of the toe,

our skin feels no splinters; no pain our hearts know.

Without a doubt, worth and art

fill the heart of every house;

yet as you walk the wooden floor,

passing by each bolted door,

you keep them locked

and you don't go in -

in fact, you've never looked inside before.

So you move on, strolling pleasantly o'er cherry planks,

across sturdy oak and maple beams;

all solid, rich, and strong, it seems.

Until you reach a stretch of hall you oddly don't recall;

you stare at the cacophonous sight,

blink, double-take, rub unbelieving eyes,

and draw a quivering breath 'neath the flickering lights;

you see the gaping hole;

in place of proper hardwood, there a chasm stood,

descending in shadow, achingly empty, shrouded in dust;

the remains of the surrounding floor were faded, dull, and dim,

every plank dilapidated, worn rugged and thin.

Then, inching forward, you step on that place in your soul

and it groans, like creaking wood

old, hard, dry

and you know that someday that board will break

and as it crumbles,

you will cry. 

But gradually, painfully, beautifully,

tears, broken floors, healing hands and open doors

will wash the splinters from my spirit

as the storms rage and the rain beats upon this old house

and once again,

my heart will be whole.

Where the heart is

The breeze is soft and sweet
Like the lush grass that lifts my feet
I slip through the smell of sun-ripened earth
The sunkissed trees and greenery

I look up as pale dusk washes over the sky
Like an ocean, bright and foaming, bathed in lye
Lofty leaves twinkle as their skin glistens in departing sunlight
Trading heat from summer days for the cool of starry nights

My, how long it's been
Since I've walked the streets I call home
Since I've tread these tree-specked fields
While wet with morning dew
How long it's been
Since I've basked in the streetlights' glow
Since I've walked beside the lakeshore
Where lines are laden with fish in tow

How long I fought to move myself
To the place where the palm trees grow
I often thought to leave this land
Thought, but did little know.

Today, I'm welcomed warmly to this home
Filled with glowing peace
For paradise is in the heart
Among the heartlands
And the seas.