The year started rough around the edges, but smoothed as each month passed through the seasons, setting me on course and setting me free.
Winter: Death and Rebirth
My year started with Death--the death of someone I'd tried to shake from my life for years, now shaken from me forever.
Weeks go by and I speak to no one. I hardly leave my hut. Am I even real?
From my windows, jungle vines strangle houses and trees and land. How can anyone breathe on an island ten million miles from anywhere? Even the ocean recedes as far from it as possible, leaving nothing but a barren, sandy landscape and a glassy mirage on the horizon.
I hop a flight to Chiang Mai and gasp for new life.
Spring: Sensorial and Experiential
Sprouts spring from the decay of winter. My island days are numbered, and all I want is to feel, see, taste, and experience every bit of it. I immerse myself in cooking classes, hiking adventures, ukulele sessions, and as much human connection as I can get. Because I want to live. I want to live. I want to live. But the center cannot hold. It never does.
Friends leave or ebb away, classes end, and the season winds down. After two years on this small, tropical jungle island, I pack my life and move back to the north of Thailand.
Summer: Growth & Renewal
Back in Chiang Mai, all the things I want to be here waiting for me aren't. It lures me back and only gives what I need, never what I want. This time, nature. Lots of it. Mountains, waterfalls, fertile ground, lush growth. Miles of land in every direction. Motorbike adventures and exploration fill my days.
Stifling heat gives way to thunderstorm downpours, misty atmosphere, and a sense of renewal. I jog up the stairs to Wat Doi Pui and gaze over the rooftops to the expansive valley beyond the village. A cool breeze cuts through the heat. On top of a mountain, on the brink of change, anticipation stirs in the air. Smoke curls from the distant homesteads and thick clouds darken the sky. Thunder sounds. My cue to take action. If I linger any longer, I'll never go anywhere.
Fall: Liberation
I ride the Mae Hong Son Loop, and I suspend in a timeless freefall of darkness and stars. I lose my job of the past five years and relief washes over me--a kind of relief I haven't felt since I left California. I shed the complacency that has grown in me like a disease over the years. I've all the time in the world to take mindful steps forward. And so with intention and vision, I do.
In midst of stepping in new directions, Ted Chiang flips my literary world upside down. Most of my favorite writers have. Breaking rules and changing the way I think and see the world through story structure and experimentation. If we cannot turn what is known on it's head so that we can peer between the lines to see the unknown, what is left? What else is there to live for in this world?
Spiraling back to winter, one foot in front of the other, I walk onward from where this year started. I have no expectations for what the coming year will bring or how it will unfold. But I have a direction and that is all that matters.
What did you shed in 2021? How do you plan to show up for 2022?
