Shall I cue the return of blogging organization with the new year? Perhaps, perhaps not. We shall see. I was doing so well for a while there. Mayhap I will discover again the thing that is called an organized schedule of tasks for different days.
This past year passed so quickly in one sense and yet also seemed to fill in the space of more than just a year. Without going into detail, there has been so much ground I've covered in this year. And also so little.
I came home today delighted by my Victorian Christmas tree and my Victorian etagere and my books and my coffee table and my new record player. And I just . . . am glad of where I have come to be. Even while there is so much more to settle, there is also so much that has been settled.
When you're at that point that you look around and you like the progress that your life has been through. Maybe there is plenty more to go, but you're glad for what has progressed. In the last year or so, I have learned the practice of continual thanks and that has enhanced my ability to enjoy everything.
I see everything on a different plane now. Places, people, moments. Beauty has such a strong and different meaning from the general one.
I feel like I have so much more to give to my second book than I did to my first one--and yet I never seem to take the time to work on it for more than brief moments here and there. In a way, though, I think that this might be okay because maybe I will be better capable of working through it later than at the current moment. Maybe stewing is good.
I know everything and nothing.
I am alive and you are alive and it is good that we are alive. Let's live.
Happy New Year.
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