I’ve missed writing.
Over the last several months, so many things have happened, but above all what happened was I lost sight of myself.
I feel like that’s something I have often said over the years. And maybe it is? But this time was different. This time, there was a deep ripple effect and it opened my eyes to many things but mostly to how surrounded I am by people who care about me.
It was like a vortex of time that now, when I think about it, is wrapped up in this little package and seems to exist all by itself. But it did happen, and as 2016 drew to a close, and I became more and more separated from that time in my life, I could see the dichotomy: it’s existence, it’s non-existence. It’s impact, it’s gifts (because there is always a silver lining). It’s consequences, good and bad.
Maybe one day I’ll share the story. For now, it’s enough to say that I miss writing. I miss me, and who I was when I was writing.
This past weekend I only wanted to accomplish two things: I wanted to knit a pair of boot cuffs for a friend, and I wanted to fill out my Powersheets, because I thought that was what would set the tone for 2017. If I could wrap up a loose end, and intentionally figure out what I want for the year, something magic would happen and 2017 would be perfect.
I got distracted, as I often do, and among the distraction was this space. I read, and I read. I laughed, I cried, I cringed.
And here I am.
I don’t have goals yet, for 2017. I don’t have a direction. I don’t have my one word. I don’t have an intention.
What I do have is heart, and support, and a desire to just write. Whatever it may look like.
So consider this my declaration that 2017 will be a year of writing. I am laying 2016 down and picking up this new year with the confidence that all those ripples, as they spread out and eventually fade to memory, will remind me to keep moving forward. There are treasures when you sift through a mess you’ve made, and I’m finding them and holding tight.