As I am wont to do of late, this morning I peered back to review what I’d written on this day last year. The first paragraph of my post, First Words, included these comments:
…I bid good riddance to a year laced with pain, sadness, heartache, fear, anger, and lies. With that boot to the rear of an ugly year, I also welcome a year that holds promise and potential that can be met only if humanity collectively applies itself to correcting the errors of the past. I wish I felt more optimistic about the likelihood that the potential will be met.
My optimism was, in large part, unwarranted. In that same post, I noted that I had received, the day before, a phone call that can best be called “transactional”—informing me that my wife’s ashes were ready for pickup. Then, a confirming text: “…you have a scheduled pickup…”
I will remember 2021 as the second gut punch of a fierce attack that began in 2020. But the year also brought me into the good fortune of a relationship with my IC, an experience which I believe saved me from myself. The occasional ray of brilliant, healing light can illuminate even the bleakest times.
The occasional ray of brilliant, healing light can illuminate even the bleakest times.
My expectations for 2022 do not overflow with enthusiastic optimism. It’s better to be pleasantly surprised than to be thoroughly and painfully disappointed by dashed expectations. Yet I vacillate between wanting to be more of a realist or more of an optimist. Pain tends to accompany both mindsets; one a long, enduring, crippling ache and the other a sudden and sharp stabbing wound. Yet that brilliant ray of light can yield unexpected succor; something that can turn dull worry into joyous appreciation. Life is what it is. One’s expectations, in fact, clothe either hope or dread that can be stripped away in an instant. Perhaps it’s better simply not to allow expectations to muck with one’s life experiences.
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I will end this short and less-than-overwhelmingly-enthusiastic post in a completely different vein, courtesy of an adaptation of an Irish blessing I find smile-inspiring and mood-altering. To you, my friends and family, as well as the unexpected and unknown visitors to this blog:
May you be poor in misfortune,
rich in blessings,
slow to make enemies, and
quick to make friends.
But rich or poor,
quick or slow,
may you know nothing but happiness
from this day forward, in this New Year
and all that follow.
