New Year Musings
The darkness clings to the street, pooling in those forgotten places, those spaces where polite folk wouldn’t walk in the daytime, never mind in the dark. There aren’t any polite folk here now, though, nor nobody else for that matter. All is quiet, there is no traffic, all the houses still dark save for a lonely light here and there. Or the flash of light from a TV playing in a darkened room. Strangely, these seem to add to that feeling of solitude. Ships passing in the night, is that how the saying goes?
The blackbird is up, though. He always is, singing somewhere, hidden in the boughs of the linden tree, his song clear and loud, melodic and melancholic. It feels perfectly right for this moment. The sky is clear and thousands of stars burn brightly in its dark depths. Which of course at this time of year means it’s freezing. I can feel the slight resistance of frost hardened spikes of grass as I traverse the garden, my normal morning routine. But, you know, I love these mornings.
They remind me to rest.
I’ve been working hard just lately, burning the candle at both ends. Success demands sacrifice, right? Capitalist culture has turned this into a perversion. Success does indeed require sacrifice, but it’s up to each individual to decide what that sacrifice might be, what they are willing to relinquish and what they are not. To decide what success looks like for them. When I used to fight, sacrifice meant finding the time to go training. It meant giving up my free time, of going straight out after work for training. It meant hitting and getting hit in sparring (often worse than fights, iron sharpens iron, my coach says). It meant facing my fears and overcoming my own mind. And the success? Sometimes that might be winning a fight, but more often than not it was smaller than that. Smaller to the outside looking in, but to me were personal triumphs. Sometimes success was slipping the punch that kept getting through my guard, landing my own, landing the combo I’d worked so hard to master. Unlearning bad habits.
Now, though, the success and sacrifices look different. I’m willing to sacrifice an hour or two sleep in my own search for success. Success to me means being able to live the type of life I want. Isn’t that each of us really want? And for most of us, this isn’t given. Just surviving requires a tremendous effort that leaves little time or effort for anything else. We have to push constantly against it. And so rest is important.
But I’ve been ignoring my own advice, to slow down, to take my cues from nature, to rest and recuperate. I know I have. Whenever I begin to crave the silent solitude of the forest, or the rushing coolness of the river, the cloud covered and wind driven hilltop, or the cosy confines of my lamp and candle lit living room, with the dog curled up in the crook of my legs and a good book in hand, I know I need to slow down. To take my cues from the land where I live and just be. And, what we don’t often hear, is that this is vital. For all of us.
It often feels like a luxury, though, doesn’t it? When we aren’t being ‘productive’, it feels wrong. For so long, all our lives really, we have been pushed, either by parents, teachers, ourselves, to do more, to work harder, to put in the hours. And if you’re poor, it’s even harder. Just surviving can be difficult. And when you do eventually get to a better place, it feels strange. You question every purchase that isn’t deemed totally necessary. I call it the poor mind trap. You become so used to having to scrimp and save, to having to work hard so that when you can eventually do more of what it is that makes you feel good, you end up feeling guilty.
Weird aren’t we.
Do any other creatures struggle to rest when they need it and can get it? Anyway, I’m rambling now. I’ll get on with it.
I don’t do new year’s resolutions and yet, unlike a good many pagans, I do regard the 1st of January as the new year. I know the calendar we use is relatively modern, as far as calendars go, but what can I say, it’s all I’ve known. I can’t help it. I know some see Samhain as the new year, but that doesn’t work for me. And besides, January does feel like the new year, at least where I live. The cold and frosty mornings like these feel new and fresh. It feels like the time to be slow and measured, to rest and recover for whatever the future may bring.
And so let us rest. Let us find the rhythms of the land where we live and within ourselves too. Let us gather our strength for the trials we will face and the obstacles to overcome. And for the successes too.
Happy New Year.
EMMA KATHRYN
Emma Kathryn, practises traditional British witchcraft, Vodou and Obeah, a mixture representing her heritage. She lives in the sticks with her family where she reads tarot, practises witchcraft and drink copious amounts of coffee.
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