Another year, another metaphor for my word of 2023, and lately I’ve been thinking about water. Maybe it’s watching the lake in Door County. The bay rages, it calms, it freezes like glass or in mounds of ice. Maybe it’s looking at this year ahead and not knowing what it will bring but knowing that it will be hard, either way. It will be a thousand other things too, I’m sure, but I think it will be hard. In response to that I need . . . not to be hard. I don’t want to be soft, but I think I’ll need to be fluid, resilient to the changing of the tides.
I am not, historically, a flexible person. I’ve worked on this over the years. It turns out inflexibility can make you kind of an asshole in a lot of situations, and I hope I’m learning to pick my battles. But I like to know what to expect. I know I’m not alone in facing uncertainty with a brick of anxiety on my chest. And as I’ve chosen to pursue an adoption process as a hopeful single parent, I’ve basically chosen, on purpose, one of the most uncertain paths to potential parenthood. So I need to figure out how to ride the waves or else lose my damn mind.
That’s what I’ve landed on for my word of the year: waves.
Waves — the crest, the trough, the ups, the downs. Waves — they break upon the rocks but they do not break. Waves — you can laugh and play in them and you can be pulled under by them. Waves — that, when the wind is fierce, only grow stronger. Waves — whose lapping upon the shore match the uneven rhythm of my breath. Breathe in, breathe out. They are a lullaby. They are a storm. I need both inside my heart.
You never really know what’s coming. A small wave, or maybe a big one. All you can really do is hope that when it comes, you can surf over it, instead of drown in its monstrosity.
–Alysha Speer
I’m craving that flexible word as a touchstone this year. I’m craving the multitude of metaphors.
Who knows what the year will bring, but here are some of my hopes, in no particular order:
- I hope I will keep writing — may that be fiction, on this blog, or D&D adventures.
- I hope I will play more D&D.
- I hope I will keep meditating and be more intentional about the meditation time and length than I was this past year.
- I hope I will continue to run. And if I cannot run, I hope I will continue to move.
- I hope I will become a parent.
- I hope I will grow as a leader at work and take the next step in my career there.
- I hope I will stay in deep connection with my family and friends.
- I hope I will finally finish playing Breath of the Wild and play Breath of the Wild 2.
- I hope I will find new ways to give back and participate in my community.
- I hope I will have new adventures.
- I hope I will go to sleep early. And get up early.
- I hope I will read a lot of great books.
- I hope I will continue to learn about myself,
- I hope I will show up for others in line with my values — with kindness and courage.
People choose to struggle when people don’t want to relax. Sometimes it is not on your side. Relax; calm down. No matter how hard the waves are, you will float on the ocean.
–Kubra Sait
There are more, I am sure. I feel bursting with hope and possibilities some days. On other days I hope for rest. I do hope for rest this year, too. And joy and . . . despite it all, change. Change with the knowledge that, come what may, the waves always return to the sea. I love a calm water day, but bring on the waves.
With Love,
Natalie