"...Neither movement from nor towards, neither ascent or decline. Except for the point, the still point, there would be no dance, and there is only the dance." T.S. Elliot
January: Stillness. When all the things and people that used to matter begin to fall through the invisible fissures in the foundation of my universe, I stop grasping and allow them to fall away. After talks with a wise earth angel on the matters of faith and stillness, I hop on my bike and drive to Chiang Dao to lie under dark skies and tap into the cosmos--my still point, my safe space. Because stillness (in the middle of this chaotic, turning world) is where wisdom, always present, can be clearly known.
February: Surrender. Visa issues and job limbo--a month of unknowns. I take long jungle hikes in the mountains to alleviate unwavering anxiety. I chant mantras. I surrender. And like the strike of a magic wand, all at once I get the job, my visa is approved, and a friend I hadn't talked to in months reaches out and invites me to a gig that sets in motion a series of events that begins to change everything.
March: Listen. Swept into a world of music and mayhem, I follow voices and dreams into a new layer of Chiang Mai I never knew existed.
April: Comfort. I find comfort and acceptance in the most unlikely friends and places so I continue to follow the music down this rabbit hole. But when I stop and pause and tune out the world, all I see are fields of wild flowers below me, kites above me, and darkness behind me. One foot in front of the other, I turn forward and walk straight into a blinding light.
May: Confusion. Going out most nights of the week to observe the world around me is like a crash course in human nature. After this many solar returns, my naivety about the way people function in the world astounds me sometimes. I convince myself this is good for my writing life and keep on, keep on.
June: Balance. Embrace the magic of meeting with new friends while saying goodbye to others. Dance with the energy of connection and nonattachment. Be open, yet discerning. Curious, yet cautious.
July: Adventure. Pai in July adventures mark the end of an era. I had planned to return to Chiang Mai, properly detox, and go into extreme hermit mode for the rest of the summer, but instead I came home with covid. And much like when I had dengue back in 2020, I came to in a slightly altered world.
August: Float. Between monsoon rains, I've not much to do most days so I spend my time learning to float. I lie on water and take in the sky and allow the brightness and warmth of the sun to wash over me until I forget I even exist in this world.
September: Mystery. When gifted a book and the inscription is written in Sanskrit, I take it as some sort of omen, mysteries to come, a glimpse of color in a world turned grey. For better or worse, I grasp at these signs and attach significant weight to them--a survival tactic I learned long ago and apparently still embrace because I need to believe in something.
October: Stories. I hop on my bike and drive east into the mountains. By nightfall, I find myself in a tree house full of string lights and canopy bridges linking platforms facing west into the setting sun. I translate random Sanskrit sentences and inadvertently begin to weave stories from them. Some people, I decide, are meant to live in the real world, and others, no matter how hard they try, simply can't.
November: Patience. I bide my time reading about the philosophy of Pessoa, studying the story structures of Calvino and Borges, and getting lost in the ever shifting landscape of literature across world cultures and within my own mind.
December: Dream. I awake on Koh Phayam--an otherworldly tiny island somewhere off the coast of Thailand in the Andaman Sea where jagged, coastal rocks contain puzzles and narrow, winding roads all lead to destinations more dreamlike than real, more real than anything I've ever experienced.
Back in Chiang Mai, I take life week by week, day by day, one foot in front of the other--which doesn't so much lead me anywhere specific, except back to a point of stillness where I find clarity amidst this turning world of chaos and beauty.
Have you taken the time to reflect on 2022? What came up for you? How will you integrate what you've learned into this new year?
