I’ve never really feared a year before. Perhaps it is partly due to reverence; 2013 was brutal, yet eye opening. Losing a horse and my mother’s shocking diagnosis reignited an understanding that absolutely nothing is guaranteed. I fear being forced into yet another year—there is insurmountable possibility and power in just 365 days.
I hope for it to be less heartbreaking.
The scariest things in life seem to be intangible. Our imaginations are most coherent, producing possible scenarios in which we are threatened greatly: a shark attack, a one and done car accident, abduction, cancer…
We cannot reach out and touch these things; rather, we can accept them as possible. There is a necessary balancing act here, between remaining cognizant of what could happen, yet to live freely despite it. My mother did everything right; however her mortality was “never on my radar”. Don’t let it shock you. We all will live and we all will die. It still amazes me that this commonality alone is not enough to make us love one another.
2013 cornered me, and over time I acclimated to the pain and the uncertainty. Much like learned helplessness, I found it difficult as I eyed the clock last night, clinging to what I have known and terrified of a “new” year. Maybe I wasn’t brave enough to embrace midnight as most would, my strength faltering briefly as we all surged forward. Last year has dissipated and disappeared forever in the course of a single day. Time, also intangible, dictates our lives and pulls us in its direction no matter our resistance. Time is much like death.
Lily instantaneously creates a concrete separation and escape from o’clock limitations, as I am able to linger in successive moments. She is slowly teaching me to trust even the most ephemeral components of a single day—to allow her affection and understanding of my struggle. Horses keep things simple, yet possess incomprehensible complexity. It is beautiful. Despite my reticence, choosing to reenter the equine world was the best decision I made last year. With each ride I am more honest and humbled; I have proven to myself that I truly belong in a barn and am happiest there. I recognize this as a true triumph.
Home is an important place for me, and I step into 2014 while still settling next to a brand new fireplace. Melvin sleeps in a hat while Juniper hobbles around, his Christmas casted leg dragging behind him. Luke is comfortable in his elder years, and my two rescues have finally found peace after abandon. The unconditional love between Joseph and I captured in our wedding photos has withstood past and current hardships. Despite fallacies on either end, I still believe that we are in awe of one another. Things like this will you forward in the face of tragedy.
It is possible that my threshold has finally been met in life, therefore I have no resolution for the future. My advantage entering a new era is that the moment is all that matters. As my fingers fly about a keyboard right now, I cherish the cat in my lap and the music in my ears. I hope to become more detail oriented in what is, rather than stuck in the depths of ambiguity. The days written on a calendar should never dictate our lives, and I will fight until my end to maintain the clarity of now.