My Year

Okay. I've redesigned my blog. And I'm hoping to redesign my life, bit by bit. Adjust the colors, change the fonts, etc.

In January, I went to a Naming Your Year Retreat, wherein you unearth your intentions and desires for the coming year. The retreat allowed for inner reflection and creative space. It was really great.

In the days leading up to the retreat, I was nervous and antsy about my somewhat-near future. It felt like I had a strict deadline to decide exactly what I was going to do, and I had a lot of options to choose from-- most of which were pretty dramatic changes.

If you've read some of my past entries, or know me a little, you know that I've been struggling with a lot of things... my job, my self-worth, my identity.

All of that was weighing on me when I headed to the retreat.

After taking some quiet reflection time, here's what I wrote in my journal:

I want to lie naked on a rock
spread eagle, nipples to the sky.
I want all of me 
to connect with the earth
feel its vibrations in my gut and hair and fingernails.
I want it to tell me where
why 
most importantly how.
I want to dive into the pool
inside me
hundreds of feet deep
but I can see the bottom through water like a magnifying glass
clear and clean.
And I want to emerge from the cold water
naked still
and float on the surface
with the water in my ears so
all I hear is it and me
my breathing and my heartbeat
the same as the water's.

This year I'll be 25. A quarter of a century old. It's fine. I'm not upset about getting older. I'm upset that I don't know what I want to do with my life. I do know-- I want to create and help. But how do I get there? This will be the year of figuring that out.

The paths are laid out in front of me. A spiderweb of choices, challenges, changes. It's overwhelming because what if I choose the wrong string to pull?

The Year of Stuck Bugs on Every Strand. Because I'll be fed no matter where I choose to go. It's the year of realizing that there isn't a wrong choice. Or a permanent one. I can always go back to the center of my web and sprawl out naked on my rock, with four limbs or eight.

And that's what I named my year: The Year of Stuck Bugs on Every Strand. Alternatively, The Year of Endless Possibilities.

While I feel more comfort about my life and future now, it is still a little overwhelming. I keep reminding myself that this is The Year of Stuck Bugs on Every Strand. That I have options everywhere. I'll be fed everywhere.

But... change needs to start small, I guess. So I want to start blogging regularly again. And I don't want it to be negative. I want to get back to that crazy positive person that I used to be. I want to enjoy writing again. And I want to be able to share it. Because what fun is it to write to myself?

Here's my art from the retreat, featuring a spider with boobs and a lot of jewel-bugs.