"Johnny Moonlight" mixed media on canvas paper, 9 x 12. Sold.
It's raining this morning in south Florida. A steady, drizzly rain, the kind which makes the sky a hazy gray and the world feel blanketed and muffled. A perfect day for pajamas and tea, gift wrapping and music. A contemplative day - I find myself reviewing the year, its highs and lows, moments of laughter and tears. And it has been an incredible year.
But the world doesn't want me to sit in contemplation. No, it demands goal-setting for 2017. Planning and scheduling. Examining what worked and what didn't and making a new strategy for my personal life and my art. Articles popping up every time I go online - "Have you set your goals for next year?", or "Goal setters wildly outperform others" and such. And I am a goal setter, so this shouldn't annoy me so much.
But just this once, I want to savor the year all the way to the end of it before tackling the next one. I want to drag my heels a bit, run a stick along the fence rails, lollygag and dally. I want to savor this last morsel, eat every crumb and lick my lips. I want to tarry awhile.
Even as I write these words, I realize how oddly wonderful this is. One of my goals this year has been to play, to savor moments, to relax and sink in to the present moment. And here I sit, already transformed, refusing to be pushed out of the present. This is not who I was a year ago. And if I hadn't tarried here with these words, I might not have had this realization.
With this one last blog post for the year, before the family arrives and the late nights, board games and hilarity begins, before the inevitable (and important) goal-setting and planning, I want to thank you, dear sweet reader! Thank you for reading when your day was already so busy. Thank you for commenting and sharing your thoughts. Thank you for supporting and cheerleading and uplifting. Thank you for sitting with me in the present moment, just for a bit, in this wild ride that was 2016. See you next year.