I’m going to be honest, 8 days into 2017 and I’m still trying to summon that over hype sense of excitement and energy that I usually greet a new year with…and I’m missing the mark quite dismally. Understandably so, though. A very good friend of mine passed away last month which led to me entering the new year with a profound sense of loss, hyper-awareness of my own (and everybody I love’s) mortality and a respectful appreciation for time. From within my cocoon of sadness and grief I can still appreciate the opportunity that the 355 still-to-be-lived days of 2017 have to offer, and have a strong sense of how I want to spend them.
This time last year I was in a dark and aimless space. The previous year before (2014) had left off on a rather horrendous note and honestly, aside from relief at seeing the back of it, I mostly felt mountains of trepidation for the 12 months panned out right in front of me. . The thought of the blank canvas that was 2015 filled me with dread. Lots of dread. I had no purpose. I had no intentions. I was just exhausted.