New Year’s Eve Eve

Well, now it’s New Year’s Day. It’s quiet. The radio is on. I worked some puzzles. There’s French toast / bread pudding baking. I’ve had one cup of coffee. I slept soundly. Got in bed before nine! I did hear some fireworks and guns blasting. Not too much or for too long. Went right back to sleep.

Thoughts and musings. Facebook posts from 2023. Photos. A collection of the year. A sort of review.

Memory comment to a friend’s post.

“I was in Bellingham for a summer study with Bill Evan’s, the dance company not the musician, in the early eighties. I loved it up there. My mother came to visit and we drove up to Vancouver for a little trip. I had moved to Seattle after the summer study was finished. I haven’t thought about that time in ages. We had no idea that my mother would die very soon after. Interesting side note, Bill Evans the dancer and Bill Evans the musician did collaborate and performed together at a live event. It was wonderful.”

“🛎️🛎️🛎️ Pay attention. I offer neurogenic yoga / TRE to help you learn to find homeostasis and comfort. With practice you CAN learn to actually physically release stress and anxiety. Tension in the body is often a manifestation of some held trauma. I am not primarily concerned with the story. What I look at is the physical manifestation of the story.”

I’ve sworn off! Again!! No Facebook! No Instagram! I was completely abstinent for many months. Then I crept back. One post at a time. Then those “reels” got me in their clutches. After hours of scrolling I was numbed out. What I’ve noticed is that Facebook and those “reels” not only numb my brain, they somehow at the same time cause me to feel anxious in a very uncomfortable way.

A few things that I learned in 2023.

I’m not 5’7”. Haha!! There I was in the doctor’s office with the nurse measuring me. She tells me that I’m five feet four inches. Or did she say four feet nine inches? She definitely said four feet nine inches!! I even came home and measured for myself!! I just couldn’t believe it. I have been claiming that I’m five seven for as long as I can remember. It’s on my driver’s license. On my passport. Where I got that idea is gone from my memory.

I am generally very happy to spend so much time with myself. I used to think this was a problem to be solved. My solitary life seemed to be “an issue” to “work on”. I was somewhat baffled to have arrived at late middle age so single. I kind of wore it on my sleeve for a time. Talked about it. Read articles and essays by very intelligent creative people about their experiences with solitude and loneliness. Two different things. I’m not lonely. I love the solitude that I “get to” enjoy. It’s a sort of gift. To sit here writing at five after eleven on the first day of the new year is a gift. To not be hung over or full of regrets from whatever might have happened is a gift.

Most things that I tend to get worked up about are just none of my business.

There is so much that I’m grateful for. Here is a partial list in words and photos.

This apartment. My neighbors. Discovering new music. Visits from friends. Calls from Rome. The Friday Zoom group. A bit of work. My cousins in St. Louis.

Working with students brings me so much excitement. Seeing someone discover something new. Actually transferring what I have learned about self regulation to another person is just the best. More of that please.

The French toast bake turned out great. I just made up the recipe.

So, here’s to showing up for life as best as I can one day at a time. Here’s to staying present with what comes. Here’s to French toast and knee surgery and bags of sweaters taken to those out in the cold. Here’s to staying on the path.