Into the Blue: Word
And just like that, it's 2024.
I love the elder days of December that provide extended periods of quiet contemplation before the birth of the new year brings a front of clean, crisp possibility. Although a new year can easily lead us into the stalemate states of shoulding ourselves to be thinner...stronger...richer...better....or remaining steadfast in our complacency to what is comfortable and routine, it doesn't have to. As I have gotten older, I've come to cherish the end of December and beginning of January as fertile time to practice hope. This time of year calls forth the energy of a walk on the beach: we are inclined to turn back and consider our footprints before turning to the horizon to wonder what else is possible.
Whether the path behind us is fraught with loss and grief, or seeped in gratitude and awe, our work is to stay open. Some of you will remember 2023 as the year you lost your father, or the year you had to move your wife into an assisted living facility, or the year your heart was broken, or the year your son was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, or the year you had your hip replaced, or the year you may have spent your last Christmas with your mum. Some of you will remember 2023 as the year you became a parent for the third time or a grandparent the fifth time, or the year you spent on sabbatical in New Zealand, or the year you got sober, or the year you quit the long hours of being a surgeon, or the year you turned 50, or the year you finished writing your book. All of us will remember 2023 as the year war broke out in the middle east and trudged on in Ukraine. In 2023, we catalogued more mass shootings, more domestic violence, and more reality-TV-show politics into our collective experiences. 2023 will go down as the hottest year on record, and the year Artificial Intelligence, Barbie, and Taylor Swift took center stage.
Reflecting on our collective experiences of 2023 brings our own suffering and joys into relief, and reminds us that our personal experience of 2023, albeit important, is one of many. 2023 will go down as many things depending on who is doing the reflecting; and in turn, the possibilities of where we might go in 2024 are limitless. This expanse of possibility before of us can be daunting, even terrifying. Although some of us may be tempted to jump back into bed, and pull the covers up over our eyes, if we remember Desmond Tutu's definition of hope as "being able to see that there is light despite all the darkness," we can embrace this sacred time between an ending and a beginning to spring us from our beds of comfort into the great unknown. The late, brilliant, Irish writer and poet, John O'Donohue, put forth that every end is pregnant with a beginning:
"Often when something is ending we discover within it the spore of new beginning, and a whole new train of possibility is in motion before we even realize it. When the heart is ready for a fresh beginning, unforeseen things can emerge. And in a sense, this is exactly what a beginning does. It is an opening for surprises. Surrounding the intention and the act of beginning, there are always exciting possibilities."
A friend recently told me she chooses a single word to encompass her hopes for the coming year. Another friend leaves it up to universe (or chance, depending on how you see it) and chooses a word from a deck of word-cards to align her hopes for the year ahead. I love the idea of a single word: it takes the pressure off, and at the same time, forces us to be creative and open in setting our intentions for the year ahead. The boundaries of a word are vague, leaving more room for the unimaginable, and less room for disappointment and failure.
As I reflect on 2023, I am struck by the hindsight that it was a year marked by a great deal of work below the surface: friendships were deepened, Blue Light sustained, and I grew potatoes...a massive amount that I shared with friends and family. Reflecting back on last year and recalling digging in the dirt, searching for potatoes, feeling their root systems between my fingers, I can't help but smile, thinking about my own root system and how strong it feels. I've decided to deem "roots" as last year's word, which brings me to setting a word-intention for 2024.
On New Year's Eve, we sent wish lanterns into the sky, each holding our word for 2024. My word is “water”. In 2024, I hope to water my roots; drink more water; and swim in the ocean more. I wonder what else the intention will bring?
What's your word for 2024? I want to know.
As always,
Thank you for reading.