2013 – down the rabbit hole

John Tenniel's Alice (1865)

John Tenniel’s Alice (1865)

I hadn’t intended to do a year end post but I received a couple more email subscriptions recently and I’m surprised people are still noticing this blog so long after it has been lying dormant. So I thought I’d have a go and give myself a chance to reflect on the previous year.

2013 was a whirlwind year – I had, and still have, so many unfinished writing projects that blogging seemed like a luxury, an escape, even an excuse. So I stayed away, metaphorically and physically. In 2013, I had a three-month work stint elsewhere which required moving out of my rented flat. When I returned there was the search for a place to buy, to call my own. I have found a place, and am waiting for the process to follow through. In the meantime, I am lodging with a friend, in a small spare room, surrounded by my possessions, mostly boxed away, waiting to be let out for the next phase of life. What I have on hand are my computer, a few books that I dip into from time to time, and the bits and bobs needed for daily life – contact lenses, toiletries, clothes, socks. This experience is revealing how little one really needs to get by on a daily basis, and that’s without sacrificing any modern conveniences or implements.

The year was spent on the move but not really in flux. More like a transition. If the few years before were spent life editing and uncluttering, the past year was more like an affirmation that it was all worth it. And that all is okay in my world. I can be on the move but not flustered, in limbo but not lost. The astrology of the year has been intense but I feel like something at the core is settling now. It is worth remembering that Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland for all their mayhem ends with calm, contentment and peace.

Lastly, [Alice’s sister] pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood: and how she would gather about her other little children, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long ago: and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days.
— Lewis Carroll, 1865

In 2014, I look forward to stopping a little and building a space, metaphorically and physically, a place to always come home to.

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