I think that I am supposed to be reviewing my year. I’m supposed to consider all the ways in which I fucked it up and then promise via a new year resolution(s) never to do any of that crap again.
But here’s the deal: I did my best. Even when I blew it, I was doing my best.
So here’s a resolution as old as the ones about increased veggie consumption and cardio-dedicated living: fuck it.
I’m not going to promise anything.
Immediacy is beautiful. The moment is beautiful. And I am profoundly grateful for my year, even as I feel it all slip away.
I am standing here in front of you, not as a compilation of plans or expectations. I simply am. And that is always enough.