I am exhausted, an existential exhaustion. It hits me every year, this last two weeks of December is like walking through treacle. I sleep and I sleep and when I am not sleeping I am feeling sleepy.
The bright lights of Christmas cheer wane and fade leaving a charcoal smudge on my memory making way for a cacophony of completing, resolving, resetting, rebooting. There is an I in me that rebels, resists, defies the collective ceremony of the end of the year. Every cell in my body cries out to hibernate, to sleep, to dissolve, to disappear – a gravitational force that has the power to suck me off this merry go round of life. It is a familiar shadow particularly amplified at this time of year. Aha old friend. We can rub up companionably on the sidelines, observers & watchers of celebratory shenigans, out of the glare of effusive joy and optimism – by ourselves but not alone.
And then as the watery winter sun rises on a new year, on a new decade that shadow will fade; slowly at first but fade it always does and my energy will return; in fits and starts but splutter into life it will.
So as I energetically ebb into this New Year’s Eve I share the Rumi quote that lifts my heavy heart like feather weight across the Julian rubicon of endings and beginnings. May it lift yours too if lifting is required.