I rarely make new year resolutions.
The marking of a new calendar year seems arbitrary to me, and the calendar itself is like someone did graffiti with a sharpie marker against the infinite swirling kalediscopic mural of Now. A way of desperately trying to get a grasp on our experience of past and present and future and how-the -heck do you steer this thing anyway? This is one of the reasons I enjoy following seasonal celebrations and astrological events, since they roll merrily along with or without our participation.
I also am usually not the person who says, “I think this year is going to be a good one”…since by June the statement always feels stale with the realization of…oh yeah…this is still the same me working and playing with life.
But this year…this etch-a-sketch scratching on the mirror of the universe…I think I’m gonna say it. Because the air is a little tingly and already synchronicity has invited itself to the party.
I think this year is going to be magical.
Or perhaps I should just take total responsibility for that statement and say, “This year I am inviting more magic in, and since it seems to be knocking on the door anyway, why not?”.
Driving home from So Cal after xmas, three owls flew overhead of us, through the crispy snowflakes coming down on the I5 grapevine. We stopped 1/2 way at a Motel 6, and in the icy morning air, Fern and I took Leo out for a walk. We were smack dab in the middle of that superhighway stretch of flat flat flat, dotted with tumbleweeds and the occasional sea of misery of industrial cattle ranching. As we stepped out into an endless field behind the motel, I heard a sound that is stored in my cellular memory. The three of us were immediately enchanted, as I heard one, and then another, answering. The sun broke over the horizon behind us and painted the frost pink, our breath puffing out around us, suddenly friends with the entire world…semi-trucks, suffering cows, fast food, flea bag motels, quiet earth, scrappy vegetation and secret inhabitants.
“Shee-oo-e-lee shee-ee-le-ee”. The field was full of meadowlarks. Meadowlarks are the first birds I ever learned to identify by song, remembering standing as a kid outside of our home in Bella Vista and hearing them in the field to the north. Like so many songbirds, they stopped coming through on their migration, and I haven’t heard one in years. The mythology surrounding them is rich through many Native American tribes, and over time they began to symbolize much in my own personal iconography. It’s not something I even care to try to describe or define, but their song for me seems to open a curtain between this world and that, between inner and outer. Finding them, in such a strange and unlikely moment, felt like a gift and blessing. (If you are interested, Google “meadowlark mythology”. There’s a lot.)
It’s going to be a good year.
And I hope it’s a magical one for all of us.
(P.S. I am joining Worpress.com in their Post a Day 2011 challenge. Phew! Let’s see how this goes. This is Day 1.)