Of course, you don't think it will happen to you. No one ever does.
But then you hear it. Just when you think that you've dodged the fixed gaze of last year's insouciance and have thoroughly scanned the horizon for easier vows, you overhear that niggling internal dialog that ruins everything.
You know the one:
That ambush of integrity that corners you at the edge of your holiday celebration. The one that comes just as you stand on the precipice of blissful ignorance ready to enter the new year unfettered by conscience.
It is the blight that is left swilling in your brain after twelve months of careless indulgence. It is the sodden heap of regret and the Pollyanna-threat of renewal.
Now suddenly you are beset with introspection when all you crave is frivolous action. It is the ultimate buzz kill and it stings like hell.
I know because it happened to me.
Damn.
A New Year is cresting; it's unblemished promise scouring my unconscious seeking out only the choicest moments of failure or weakness from which will come those prickly resolutions for the next unfolding.
What now?
Do I sort through my mistakes and losses with an indifferent eye to avoid the shame and grief that need only a nod to activate their bottomless despairing?
Or hold the weight of new dreams against the door of old misgivings and risk losing all credibility?
Or perhaps just dance with the pathology of remorse until we both collapse in giddy forgiveness?
How much retrospection is required before redemption?
How much purity, for resurrection?
Will they come this year?
And so I resign:
That the weight will be lighter;
the giving, greater;
the inaction, activated;
the prospects, productive
and all gains, good.
I will gather my belligerence and shake it until it smiles.
And walk into the New Year
holding the light.....
and perhaps
a strong drink.
One trip at a time.
Happy New Year!
