Ritual to Release the Year
I remember last spring, not only did Covid rip the rug out from under humanity, but a record high number of friends were experiencing cruel twists of fate, from long-standing marriages unravelling, to cancer diagnoses, to the death of loved ones. At one point I sat down and made a list of all the upheaval and unwanted events that were transpiring simultaneously, thinking that doing so might by some magic send them away. I was wrong, of course, and left off the list-making long before it was complete. On December 23, before the cold snap pushed the temperatures below freezing for several nights in a row, I noticed that a coneflower in my south side garden had recently shot up new bloom stalks, a few of which were attempting to birth flowers, the petals not quite formed but promising, their orange-purple color still tucked in close to the center. Ah, I thought, yet another unwelcome, unprecedented anomaly for 2020. Here was a May-blooming plant trying to flower in late December, a “bad timing” event to add to all the others the year had brought already. Nonetheless, I was careful not to say anything morose in front of the flowers. They are only trying to respond to environmental cues, to information from a source that used to be reliable. It was a year of unprecedented loss for so many, even if (as I managed to do most of the time) one kept the dominant discourse on domestic politics and social unrest out of earshot. So here it is, the last evening of the calendar year 2020, as we measure time in the Western World, and I am using this post as my ritual release of this riotous, unrepeatable (I hope) year. Welcome, 2021. We’ve been waiting for you! Continue reading