Friday, December 31, 2004
Cloudy and warm
Depending upon which news agency you listen to, the death toll is somewhere between 120,000 and 130,000. The Daily News cover photos were of rich people sunbathing back on the Thai beaches – while thousands are suffering all around them. It makes me sick.
And that model chick moaning about her missing boyfriend as her private plane waits to whisk her off? If she’s refusing to leave, why isn’t that plane being used to ferry supplies?
It all makes me sick.
Rab McNeil has a great article in today’s issue of The Scotsman called “Well, so much for peace and Berti Vogts” looking back at 2004 and how ridiculous much of it was. And I mean ridiculous not meaning “fun.”
It was a difficult year, personally and professionally, and a year of enormous loss in order to make room for growth. On these days of Janus, today is the time to look backwards.
I did fairly well on my Resolutions. I had only three of them.
The first, to be the best me I could be and make my corner of the world the best I can, was rather hit and miss. There were times when I did it, and times when I was overwrought and overtired and chose to be a hermit. But I made progress.
The second was to commit more fully to my writing. Um, yeah, I would say I’ve done that.
The third was to visualize the positive life I crave. Again, that was hit and miss. For the most part, I succeeded. The first month of last year it didn’t quite work out that way (part of it was being in Houston, no offense meant to Houston), and I’ve been struggling to retain the positive in the past few weeks. Hopefully, I can get back on track with that.
Out of seven goals, three of them were to sell specific pieces that fell by the wayside as I concentrated on other work. And, I did not write the plays I wanted to write. I started the Boston Tea Party piece and lost it, because I tried to make it wait for a time to be written instead of writing it when it moved me. And, with the plays, when they come, I have to drop EVERYTHING and do them RIGHT AWAY. That was a hard and painful lesson to learn. The other writing can fit into nooks and crannies of stolen or scheduled time. The plays cannot.
I did, however, not only make the serial (The Widow’s Chamber was the one at the turn of the year) a success, but have three more that are also successful. I wanted to write three novels and I wrote the equivalent of four. And I sold more short stories.
I made more progress on the writing front than I realized, and I began cleaning my emotional house, which is always a good thing. While I don’t expect people to change to suit me, I can chose who stays and who goes. And I’m getting better at paying attention when the red flags go up warning of problems – such as conflicting agendas or people wanting me to be what they want me to be rather than what I am.
I’m perfectly willing to compromise. I am not willing to capitulate.
Far too many emotional dramas have taken place for me on New Year’s. Today, I release the pain of the past – it won’t necessarily be healed instantly, but at least I can release it and forgive. I especially have to forgive myself, because I tend to loathe myself for making poor choices, even when I fix those choices later on. I can’t make the progress I need to make if I keep replaying the old loops of pain and loathing. So they have to go. Even the mistakes of the path built strength to face the future.
And, in this day and age, Rab McNeil’s final line in his column is particularly poignant: “And make 2005 the year you stay alive.”
I hope to stay alive in 2005, and beyond.
There are no guarantees, but I hope to do so.
And I wish everyone else out there joy and peace and pleasure and abundance.
May you bring in your New Year with joy and all your fondest hopes come true.
May we all work together for peaceful co-existence and a high quality of life for all.
Happy New Year.