(no subject)
so one year ends and the next begins and i can remember when i hated the fuss, the surge for celebration, couldn't figure how the end was different than the middle, just another point in the cycle of years passing, in the linear progression of time moving by.
at any rate, one year ends and the next begins and we pause our breath, look back to count things up and see where our feet have fallen. page through the photo albums and call up the old friends, create constellations of past and present, juxtaposed.
and there's not such a point in filing things away under "good" or "bad," but only to understand the extensions, where the tender buds are pushing out of the soft soil, where we're looking to grow. and to mark down that next little mark on the door frame: i've started here and i've ended here. and for better or worse, for comparison or achievement, to recognize that that mark is a little bit higher than the last. that whether we knew it or not, we were learning. and that whether we know it or not, the next time, we'll be better.
at any rate, one year ends and the next begins and we pause our breath, look back to count things up and see where our feet have fallen. page through the photo albums and call up the old friends, create constellations of past and present, juxtaposed.
and there's not such a point in filing things away under "good" or "bad," but only to understand the extensions, where the tender buds are pushing out of the soft soil, where we're looking to grow. and to mark down that next little mark on the door frame: i've started here and i've ended here. and for better or worse, for comparison or achievement, to recognize that that mark is a little bit higher than the last. that whether we knew it or not, we were learning. and that whether we know it or not, the next time, we'll be better.