the end is nigh
Is that subject line ominous enough? What I meant to say was “look! It’s December 13th! This year is almost over!” But, as 2020 has shown again and again, time is extremely relative, so the fact that there are only 18 days left in this year really means very little. And what does the end of 2020 signify, anyway? Yes, the vaccines are being released, and maybe you even know someone who is getting it imminently, but the vast majority of us are nowhere near it. We think.
And maybe that’s the real reminder: we think we know.
As 2020 has shown again and again, certainty is an illusion, and plans are a joke.
But I can’t leave us on that dreary note, because, honestly, I’m feeling pretty buoyant and fortunate today.
We can look at it either way: time is relative, certainty is an illusion, and plans are a joke. OR: time is relative, certainty is an illusion, and plans are a joke.
Did you read that in two different tones? That was the intention.
It could be a gift, or it could be a curse. It could be freedom, or it could be imprisonment. As with all things in this wild world, these truths are likely a little mix of them all. Cheers, friend. Do with this thought what you will. I think that tonight I will view it all in a rosy way, but maybe tomorrow I’ll feel differently.
prompt #21
The end of a year, any year, is time for reflection. This year, in particular, has been difficult, confusing, infuriating, invigorating, heartbreaking, mind-numbing, joyous, inspiring, and basically every other adjective you can find. For this week, I invite you to reflect on this hundred-yearlong year. Set your timer for five minutes and let your mind—and pen? Fingertips? —wander.
What new realizations or skills have you learned this year? What old lessons have resurfaced? Who has inspired you? What has disappointed you? What has been excruciatingly difficult? What has been unexpectedly easy? How has this year surprised you? How has this year fit into the patterns you’ve come to expect? How have you changed? Where have you seen growth?
When your timer goes off, as always, see where you have ended up. Take a deep breath and stretch your neck a bit. If you’ve been sitting, stand up, then reach for your toes. Arch your back. Let your body release whatever this year has built up.
And then, come back and read what you’ve written. Save what you like, chuck what you don’t. If one line, and one line alone, calls to you, follow it and see where it wants to take you.
When you have reached what feels like a stopping point, I suggest you tuck it away (in virtual or physical space) where you can find it again, maybe in six months or a year. Schedule an email to yourself, tape it to a months-away page of your planner, ball it up in your sock drawer, set a reminder in your phone. Whatever sounds best to you. Give future-you a little gift.
ashley's piece
maybe you worry about the end of the world
about dystopic natural disasters
destroyed electric grids and space-junk satellites
but hasn’t this been a preview?
a dress rehearsal?
hasn't this been an invitation
to cherish the collective
welcome the end to come on in
leave the front door open and the lights inside blazing
say hello, we’re so glad you’re here
we’re not only ready, but begging you to stay
we’re ready
for the end of the world
that we know?