For the last few days, things have begun to feel tired.
The Holidays feel tired.
December feels tired.
2011 feels tired.
The air smells old, the light seems dim; even the squirrels seem tired…tired, tired, tired.
12 months… 52 weeks, nearly 365 days.
And in a couple of days we’ll get up and do it again.
But January feels fresh…feels new. It always does.
New Year’s Eve…old and tired.
New Year’s Day…fresh and new.
It’s in our heads, I know. Too many New Year’s Eves with, first, some Guy Lombardo, then Dick Clark and now that Watercress fellow infusing our brains with Auld Lang Syne.
One month to the next is the same as any other.
Yet….
It isn’t….
January....
January....
New calendars, new air, new light, new days.
New mysteries and events... to unravel… to unfold.
The warmth of Christmas dissipates around us as the cleansing cold of New Year’s jolts us into the future. Endless possibilities fuel us, staring towards a distant sky.
Of course none of this could happen without a drunken- celebration.
But not for us; this one we sit out.
No friends, no family, no Zombies nor Druids…not even a single Cloaked Mystic in the bunch. Just Z and I, a cozy fire and some Chinese take-out. We watch the ball drop and then our eyelids…if they haven’t already done so an hour before
Which is just as well, because I like to jump out of bed early on “Morning One”; grab the new year’s first cup of coffee and start right in on all those
You find them in every field, from financial, business and political analysts to psychics, tarot readers, palm readers, tea leaf readers and James Patterson readers, who predict he will publish 30 books this year, none of which he will actually write any part of, other than his name on the cover.
2011 Top Ten “Year in Reviews”, not to mention the 2012 “Year Ahead” predictions from the assembled mass of sage prognosticators.
You find them in every field, from financial, business and political analysts to psychics, tarot readers, palm readers, tea leaf readers and James Patterson readers, who predict he will publish 30 books this year, none of which he will actually write any part of, other than his name on the cover.
My barber makes Year Ahead predictions also, but since he’s a barber, they only have to do with hair, so no one cares…unless it’s your hair.
My favorite of the Year Ahead predication things are the Year Ahead horoscopes.
Right there, in a few paragraphs, you can see if it’s even gonna be worth your while to get out of bed this year.
Usually, it is, because horoscopes rarely if ever tell you anything bad. And even if they do tell you something slightly bad might be in the stars for you, like …after meeting an old acquaintance at the roller derby, some of your teeth may fall out this May…it always has a good outcome, like... you’ll save countless dollars on toothpaste and toothbrushes in the months to come.
I admit, I’m always looking for a sign of some kind of good fortune, be it my daily horoscope or the fortune cookie I select after dinner on New Year’s Eve. And I order extra, so I’ll eat A LOT of cookies until I find one.
I guess that’s the thing about horoscopes or any kind of prognostication; they’re all open to interpretation. And who wants to interpret that the stars are aligned against you?
Well, me…but, you know…I need the excuse.
For years, I’ve been reading about how a huge success is in store for me, right around the corner. That FINALLY, Jupiter is aligning with Mars and the moon is in the seventh house.
FINALLY….
Harmony and understandingSympathy and trust abounding
No more falsehoods or derisions
Golden living dreams of visions
Mystic crystal revelation
And the mind's true liberation….
FINALLY….
But every time I take a walk up to that elusive corner, sneak a peek around to see all that good fortune lined up like so many floats in the Thanksgiving Day parade, all I find is that odd woman from up the street with the little shiatsu who walks with a limp. I mean the dog limps, not the woman. The woman walks fine…but barks from time to time.
So something’s missing I guess.
Maybe Uranus is—
No….
Its way too easy to make Uranus jokes.
There’re Uranus jokes up the wazoo….
Sorry….
Or Pluto….
Not only named after a dog, but stripped of its noble planet-hood after years of faithful service, fetching all our cosmic slippers and newspapers.
So all in all, in the end, (no Uranus pun intended…really) the stars align this way or that. They shine on us no matter where we are, even when we try to hide. Especially when we try to hide.
Stars and planets don’t judge…not even Charlie Sheen.
They merely are...just like you and me.
Constant and never ending.
Just like that 4th grade Christmas pageant you sat through a couple of weeks ago.
Ancient navigators sailed stormy seas, seeking new worlds….using only stars and planets as their guide.
It’s the same for you and me.
There are countless astrologers and countless interpretations of the daily stories tweeted from the stars.
But there’s really only one story that matters as we sail our personal stormy seas, day in and day out; the story that we write for ourselves.
Like everything else, we hear it or we don’t.
We fear it or we don’t.
Like everything else.
Into the future we go…second by second…minute by minute…hour by hour.
Here and now.
Hearing now….
Unless there’s something good on TV….
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