Whoa. It's December already. It's been more than 2 weeks since my last post. Unintended.
I have more good stuff to announce, but that will be the next post, about looking forward to next year. This post is about letting go of the old one.
Back in late October I wrote about how this year seems to have been a lost year. In many ways it's also be a last year. Next year is truly going to be a "new" year for me. And as I stand on the brink, frost crunching under my feet (figurative frost - it's actually raining and almost 60 degrees!), just beginning to lean into what is coming, I've been slowly prying my fingers away from what I've been holding on to.
It's been a year of letting go. And I've still not let go of my fear of writing from the heart. I've been typing this paragraph over and over again. Shall I say it? Shall I not? Maybe some of it is still too raw and bloody. Things that have defined me, for decades or years or months or days, are being ripped away. By me. I've needed to let go of my attachment to activities, though loved, that had become stressful to the point that I'd come to dread them. I've needed to let go of my attachment to my wanting others to be what I wanted them to be, and not what they actually are. I've needed to let go of hopes and dreams that were not at all attainable. All of these things I was holding on to were holding me back.
Next year is about moving. Moving on, moving forward, moving in new directions, moving towards something rather than away. Moving rather than being frozen in place.