Monday, January 10, 2011


Is anyone else having trouble putting away their Christmas decorations? I've finally made a start (I'm so late), but it kind of makes me melancholy. Christmas came around so fast and now its gone again. The trouble is that each piece has some fact or fun or story attached to it and I'm not sure I'm ready to put it back in its box. Christmas is one of those times where you have to hang onto the past (traditions), while simultaneously letting go of it (New Year). We look forward, we look back. It's a happy time and a sad time. It's the most wonderful time of the year (as the song goes) and the most formidable.
Every year I contemplate putting out fewer decorations, tone things down (slowly, so the kids don't notice). Sometimes a few things stay in the attic. But the next year I declare I'm going all out for Christmas this year, and everything comes down out of the attic... ah, it's fun. Putting them away seems so far away, and not really important in the moment of Christmas deco fever.
But when reality dawns on the twelth day of Christmas, so does something else... I think I need the hanging on to launch me into the letting go and land me in the new.
It's time to put away and move on.
Perhaps it's time I investigated going away for Christmas... give the attic steps a holiday.
I say that every year.

Monday, January 3, 2011


I think the palindromes have potential... as in dates for example:
but 2011 as a year looks strange to me. Twenty eleven... I don't know why people keep saying two thousand and whatever (now eleven). We never said nineteen hundred and anything... did we?
But I am hoping for lots of great things.
The potential for 2011 as a year of great things is as good if not better than the potential of the palidromes to be a curious fascination as they crop up during the year.
What is she talking about, you ask. Ask away. I'll just keep talking.
The most exciting thing about New Year's to me is waiting and watching for all the time zones around the world to hit midnight and comparing all the fireworks in various global cities, and the lack of them in Times Square NYC, where confetti is the cherished norm.
I have to say experiencing fireworks on Sydney Harbour - and I mean on it, on the water in a boat - is something to savour for a lifetime.  So, that happened to Tank,  Elizabeth Bennett and Mr Darcy, and me. There are no words to describe the eye-popping, bone-shuddering, heart-swelling gorgeousness of it. Quite a stunning way to start that odd-looking 2011.
I am aware that quite a number of people experience this every year, on the water beneath the coloured sky, but me and Tank are not in that number, so we were suitably blown away.
Making resolutions and the thought of keeping them is like so much hard work, well not the kind of work I like anyway. So don't expect any declarations here.
We humans are an optimistic lot, to keep up the fireworks year after year no matter what the human condition has suffered for the past twelve months and is likely to suffer in the next twelve.
Get a grip. It's all about being grateful for what we have; auld lang syne; and wanting to be better people. If you say so.

Notice that every year NYE has to be better than the last? We are never satisfied, and while I applaud and enjoy the clever advances in technology by those clever firework techos, it does say something about us... we are never satisfied. If we were truly happy people, would we need ever more exciting fireworks? If we had solved all the pressing issues of poverty, sickness, war, climate change and need, wouldn't that be something to shoot rockets into the sky for?
We distract ourselves for a few minutes; give ourselves a sense of optimism for a few minutes which sparkles and sizzles in the night sky with so much promise and then falls away; the reality of the night sky returns.
Nope. I'm not very good at the New Year period. It all looks a little blue to me. I know... I can hear you saying that's why the fireworks are so multi-coloured. Start the year with a bang and a head full of rainbow colours, and your eyes looking up at the stars and head for them. Point taken.